The Ghost Of Draco Malfoy
by Sakurane
Summary: Draco Malfoy commits suicide in the Manor after his parents were murdered before his eyes. Hermione visits the Manor for some closure... and finds the ghost of Draco Malfoy residing there...
1. Chapter 1

Just so you know, this story takes place about two years after the Final Battle. This story will have very few chapters, probably only two or three, perhaps with a epilogue. I know that the longer I make a story, the less of a chance there is that I'll actually finish it. But I promise I'll finish this one! Write a review, please, to keep me motivated!

Hermione could have sworn that darkness descended in the sky when the Daily Profit arrived on June 6th. She'd been sipping her cup of coffee at Harry's, as she did every morning. Ron was at work already, called away early, so she's Apparated to Harry's to spend the morning with him. But the shock on the front page caused her mouth the fall open and her cup to slip from her fingers.

Harry was at her side in an instant. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

"I—oh—give me a moment, Harry. I'll be alright. Just- just look at this!" She said, brandishing the Daily Profit in the air. Harry gave her a concerned look, and then did as she told him. His eyes widened at the large, nearly comical black letters.

_**The Youngest Death Eater Meets His End!**_

Harry had no doubt who the article was about. "Malfoy." He whispered, hardly believing it. Sure enough, there was a large picture of the Slytherin, with his characteristic sneer on his lips. Neither he or Hermione had seen hide-nor-hair of their school nemesis since the final battle. They just figured he had tucked his tail between his legs and was hiding out somewhere in the luxury of his family's fortune. There were rumors that the Malfoy's had returned to the Mansions, but the place was so heavily warded that no one could prove anyone actually lived there. Two years… And now he was dead. Malfoy had always been like an invincible thorn in Harry's side. The realization that Malfoy was as human as the rest of them was a shock.

Hermione snatched it back from Harry wordlessly, reading the article. Harry heard her exclaim several times, her expression furious. Whatever was written about the young heir, Hermione didn't like it. He pulled out his wand to clean up Hermione's spilt coffee.

"Scourgify." He said, the table clean. He picked up the cup and took it to the kitchen, sure that no one would be drinking anything for a while. Meanwhile, Hermione felt angrier than she had in a long time.

She'd expected some details about the cause of his death, perhaps something about his parents, and a few good words about his days as a students.

But what she found instead was an article devoted majorly to the degrading of Malfoy's character.

The first attack came from the reporter herself. Rita Skeeter.

_"I remember meeting the Draco Malfoy when he was just a boy at Hogwarts. But even then, I could sense an unseen darkness coming from him. I thought to myself, "This one, he'll end up just like his father if he doesn't get help soon." I pushed those thoughts away, knowing that Draco was under the wing of the Wizarding World's great Albus Dumbledore. But Draco Malfoy, the only Malfoy Heir, proves that even Dumbledore couldn't save everyone. Draco Malfoy is the only son of Lucious Malfoy, a notoriously Dark Wizard and right hand to You-Know-Who during his rein. Unfortunately, it became apparent during Draco's sixth year that the apple certainly doesn't fall far from the tree. The teenager played an instrumental part in the murder of then-Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, then he later fled to join the Dark-Lord's side. Draco Malfoy has been a rival to the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, since their early meetings at Hogwarts. The animosity between the two can obviously be attributed to the fact that Harry had fought the Dark-Lord for years, thwarting the Malfoy's gaining of power. Draco tormented Harry all during school, despite Harry's many attempts at friendship._

Hermione snorted at this. But her amusement was short lived when she read the next section, entitled, "The Adolescent Death Eater"

_When the fellow Sytherin and ex-girlfriend of Draco, Pansy Parkinson, heard about Draco's death, she burst into tears. The sorrow was plain on her face as she gave a few details of Draco's life when he was a student. "He was always boasting about what he'd done for the Dark Lord. All of the Muggles he'd hunted down. When he first got the dark-mark, he was so proud that he woke me up in the middle of the night and showed it to me. He took pleasure in what he was doing. I knew that Draco was in trouble. So I broke up with him a couple of months later," Parkinson said. "I'm honestly not surprised that things ended up this way. I'm glad I ended things when I did." Gregory Goyle, snother long-time friend of Draco Malfoy, found himself on the receiving end of Draco's malicious personality. "He was always threatening me as a boy. I tried to get away from him.. but he had his father's influence. It was because of him that I became a Death Eater, too. He told me that if I didn't, he'd ask the Dark Lord to kill my family."_

Hermione stared at the paper in disbelief. Everyone knew that Crabbe and Goyle had followed Draco of their own free will. Of course, he'd enjoyed to attention quite a bit, but they'd loved the power that Draco had. Draco couldn't have gotten rid of them if he'd tried. And Pansy Parkinson's testimony… she didn't even know where to _start! _Anyone who'd seen Draco during his last few years at Hogwarts knew that Draco was terrified of becoming a Death Eater. And when he'd been marked, he'd been miserable. Obviously not Death Eater material, and he never had been.

"Pansy Parkinson… _oh, _that _trollop! _How could she say those things about him! And Goyle too… weren't they his friends? This is worse than disrespecting the dead! They're all lying!"

Harry leaned over on the couch and read despite Hermione's trembling grip.

"How did he die?" He asked suddenly.

"I don't know. I think it says something on page seven."

"Why don't we take a look at page seven, then." Harry said, like he was talking to a child. Hermione obliged and turned to the page. Another gasp escaped her lips.

"My god." Harry said, disturbed.

_Last night, authorities discovered the body of Draco Malfoy in a room in the Malfoy Manor, his body hanging by an Invisible Rope spell. Several well-trained investigated and concluded that no foul-play was apparent, and Priori Incantatum confirmed that the spell had in fact originated from Draco Malfoy's wand. His death was then ruled suicide. _

"_I'm just glad that he finally did us a favor and ended it! Now that he's gone, we can finally tear down that eye-sore-of-a-mansion." Said a neighbor of the Malfoy family. The Malfoy Manor is filled with plenty of dark magic, and even darker memories. It is where the muggle-born witch, Hermione Granger, was tortured and imprisoned alongside other prisoners of the Dark Lord, and Harry Potter successfully rescued she and the others. The Manor was also a known place where the Dark Lord often made his plans, a home to the Death Eaters. It seems ironic that his childhood home is also where the adolescent Death Eater met his end. Another Death Eater has found his way from the world, and we're closer to peace, free from the Dark Lord's reign. Draco Malfoy's reappearance from hiding was a shock to us all. His suicide though, begs a question: why? The young heir left no note or indication of his reasons, but I suppose there is no way of knowing what truly led to such a horrible end._

Hermione and Harry were silent. They couldn't have been more disturbed if Malfoy had been murdered. Somehow, this was far, far worse.

"Do you suppose Ron knows about this?" Harry asked quietly.

"I'm sure he does now. They're probably celebrating at the Ministry right now!" Hermione growled in disgust. Harry put a calming hand on her shoulder, but it did little to soothe her.

"Pansy Parkinson… _oh, _that _trollop! _How could she say those things about him! And Goyle too… weren't they his friends?"

"Maybe they weren't as close as we thought."

"This just isn't right, Harry." Hermione said. Harry understood what she meant. To see his rivals reduced to this… it was saddening.

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a loud _pop!. _Ron appeared before them, his cheeks slightly pink with excitement.

"Did you hear?"

"What?" Harry said.

"The Ferret's dead! He killed himself last night."

"Oh, how can you be so insensitive, Ronald! You're happy that someone we went to school with is _dead!" _

_I'm tired of everyone dying!_

Ron looked bewildered at her anger. "What's wrong with you, Hermione?"

She burst into tears and he glanced at Harry, panicked.

"What on earth is going on?" He asked.

"Er.. She's just a little overwhelmed." Harry said, pulling Hermione into a hug. "Why are you here Ron, anyway?"

"I just… I just wanted to tell you if you hadn't already heard."

"Yeah, we know about it already. Got a nice awakening on the front page of the Daily Profit."

"I still don't understand what's gotten Hermione so upset!"

"That's just it, Ron! You never understand!" Hermione said, muffled in Harry shirt.

"Maybe I would if people ever told me what was going on!" Ron said indignantly.

"Ron, I think you should just go back for now. Hermione needs some time…" Harry said, always the mediator between his two best friends.

"Time to do what?"

"I want to go to the Malfoy Manor." Hermione said loudly. Both Harry and Ron gaped at her.

"Why in Merlin's name would you want to do that!"

Hermione turned to him. "I don't know. I really don't. I just know that I need to go there."

_For the first time, I'm doing something entirely irrational. _

"It's not like you could just waltz in there. There are all sorts of protection spells around it. Otherwise, that manor would have been looted by now. Especially with all those rare dark artifacts."

Hermione realized he had a point.

"I know! We can speak to Professor Mcgonagall about it. I'm sure she'd allow us to go in."

"I don't understand why you want to go there, anyway." Ron said irritably.

Hermione couldn't really explain it herself. It was just too.. sudden. She felt it, deep in her heart, like something had been ripped away. It left her with a very raw ache in her chest.

"Even so... we _knew _him." She said softly, as if that explained everything.

Draco Malfoy had always been as large of a part in her life as Ron or Harry, or even Voldemort... and now he was gone. His existence had shaped the woman that she was today. He was a part of who she was. She needed closure. And some irrational, sentimental part of her wanted to say goodbye.

"Do what you need to do, 'Mione." Ron said quietly, and Apparated back to the Ministry.

"Ron didn't mean it, you know. He's not happy, he's just…" Harry trailed off.

"He's just Ron. Stupid, immature Ron." She sighed. She walked to Harry's fireplace and gather up a handful of Floo Powder.

"You're really going to the Manor, aren't you." Harry said.

"Yes… I suppose I have to pay a visit to Professor Mcgonagall first… You won't come with me?"

"No. I don't think I can." _I'm not as brave as you, Hermione. I can't confront my past like that._

"I understand." Hermione said simply, and raised her hand before saying, "Hogwarts!" Her body was consumed by emerald flames, and then she was gone.

Headmistress Mcgonagall's work was interrupted by Hermione Granger Flooing into her office fireplace. She'd had a special one put in, that only she, Harry Potter, or Ronald Weasely could use.

Any other day, she would have been annoyed, but she had strangely been expecting _somebody _to show up. Call it a Headmistresses' intuition.

"Ah, Miss Granger. I was wondering when you would show up."

Hermione's brow crinkled. "You've seen the Daily Profit, then?"

Mcgonagall nodded. "It was a real shock to us all. He was a bright boy."

"You seemed to know that I was coming… so you can probably guess why I'm here, professor." Hermione started. "Can you help me get into the Malfoy Manor?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Indeed, I can. You can use my fireplace again, and just Apparate where it is you want to go. This is the only fireplace that can be connected to the Malfoy Manor through the wards. It won't take you directly into the Manor, but will land you just beyond the gate."

"Thank you, professor!" Hermione said. She wondered idly at the mechanics behind such magic, but waved her curiosity away. Her stomach whirled with anticipation, and worry.

"Malfoy Manor!" She squeaked, and Apparated away. This did nothing for her already upset stomach, and the queasy feeling remained after the Apparating.

Just as Mcgonagall had said, here she was, just beyond the Malfoy gates. The Manor and it's gardens had fallen into disrepair, no one bothering to take care of the flora. It's appearance matched her feelings for the Manor. Hermione had nothing but bad memories of the place. It was where she'd been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, and branded a Mudblood by the atrocious witch's wand. Where she'd seen a tormented Draco Malfoy tremble at the bloodshed in his home. She still had nightmares of the place; she'd never been more terrified in her life.

She took a tentative step onto the grass and a shiver went up her spine.

_Why did I even come here?_

Nothing could have prepared her for a flash of terror that went through her when she heard a cold, sarcastic voice. She would know that drawl anywhere.

"Someone else come to piss on my doorstep?"

_Impossible. Impossible. _Hermione repeated. But her eyes couldn't deceive her.

There, in an overgrown tree not ten feet away, sat the ghost of Draco Malfoy.

Author's Note:

This seems like a good place to stop, for now. And here I was, planning to make this into a one-shot! Unfortunately, there are just too many parts to this story that I want to tell. In case any of you were wondering why Hermione can Floo into Hogwarts, it's because in my story there's a spell that allows the Golden Trio entrance into Hogwarts despite the protection, as in by Floo, flying, or Apparating. Because they're just that awesome.


	2. Like Meeting For The First Time

**Authors note: I want to give a special thank you to everyone who put me on their alert lists! Or even better, favorited it. It's made me so happy to have so many people actually reading my story! I never expected this story to get so much attention so soon, but it's given me the push that I needed to keep writing it! I'll try my best not to disappoint you guys. Read and review… if you have any ideas, I'm totally open to hearing them. Or anything you don't like about the story, just shout it out.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or it's characters. Wish I did, though.**

Hermione Granger's mouth fluttered open and closed in a convincing imitation of a fish.

"Merlin… it's you Granger." Draco said incredulously.

"M—Malfoy?"

"Come now, Granger. I know that pretty little head of yours can be put to better use than that. _Yes, _it's me. The Slytherin git." His lips turned up in his signature smirk, quite similar to his picture on the Daily Profit.

Hermione gathered herself quickly. "The Slytherin git, indeed. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"I _am _dead, you stupid woman." Draco growled.

"Well… okay, obviously you are… dead. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to see you right now…" Hermione faltered, her brain suddenly filled with too many thoughts.

_Draco Malfoy's a ghost… and that means it's really true… he's dead…_

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Granger." Draco rolled his eyes, still looking down on her from the tree. "Now, would you tell me what the hell you're doing here?"

"I just…" She trailed off. She couldn't say it.

_I wanted to say goodbye to you, and this Manor._

"You just…? I'm rather disappointed at what's become of the brightest witch of our age. Can't even muster up a simple sentence." He snorted.

Hermione blushed. "Oh, shut up, Malfoy! You just surprised me, that's all."

_Meeting your ghost was certainly the last thing I expected to happen._

All of the courage she'd had flew out the window when she came face-to-face with the Malfoy heir. Now she felt incredibly stupid for her sentimentality. And their meeting was unearthing unwanted memories of her years at Hogwarts. But one memory was so comical that she couldn't keep a giggle from escaping her. She remembered their third year, when all her rage for the pale boy had welled up, so fierce that she'd taken out her anger with a fist in his face.

_Well. I guess not all of my memories are bad. _She thought with satisfaction.

"What are _you _laughing about?" Draco sniffed suspiciously.

"Nothing. And I don't think it's any of your business, anyway." Hermione said, sighing inwardly. She didn't know how she gone from being conflicted at his death and ready to put her memories behind her, to falling into their old pattern of insults. Something about actually _seeing _him again aggravated her and made her feel like a child again.

"This is so stupid, Malfoy. I haven't come here to argue with you again. All our adolescent qualms seem pretty ridiculous, now. Considering…" Hermione bit her lip.

"Considering I killed myself." Draco finished for her. "And I feel that same. I'm _tired _Granger." He admitted.

Hermione realized that this was the closest they would ever get to a truce. Malfoy had just shown more honesty than he ever had at Hogwarts. And she was determined to take advantage of it.

"What did you mean before? The doorstep thing." She asked curiously.

"Ah. After I died, people thought it would be funny to piss on the Manor, since I couldn't actually do anything to stop them. So I stopped showing myself to them. It only gave them more satisfaction, anyway."

"But I thought that no one could get inside the gates? The wards should keep them out."

"The Ministry can get in. And those who can't get in mostly throw things at the gates."

For some reason, Hermione felt ashamed at the downfall of the Malfoy family. The proud pure-blood family had been reduced to a ridiculed spectacle. It made her very sad, though she couldn't explain the reasons herself. But Malfoy didn't seem horribly bothered by the offense. She wondered why he was so nonchalant about it all. Shouldn't he be raging and complaining?

"It doesn't really matter, now. The Ministry will come to tear it down within the week, I'm sure. It was under my name, but now that I'm gone, they can do what they want with it." He said, answering her question. He floated down from the tree and drew closer to Hermione. She could now make out his defined features, now cloaked in an eerie beauty from his see-through appearance.

"Why would the Manor just fall back under your parent's name?"

Draco gave her an unreadable look. "My parents are dead, Granger."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Hermione said without pity. She knew how much Draco had cared for his mother, and relied and his father. Then it dawned on her. Their deaths may have been what lead Draco to end his life.

"How did it happen?"

"Murdered in our parlor." He said, and his lip curled. _That _shocked Hermione.

"Murdered?"

"Yes, Granger. I believe that's what I said." He snapped. "They stole their wands and cruciod them until they _begged _for death. And even then, they kept torturing them."

The breath left Hermione chest. Draco had turned away from her during his admission, but she could imagine his eyes burning.

_How terrible… no one should have to witness something like that. Not Malfoy, or anyone._

A hollow pain twisted her stomach. "When did it happen?"

"Over a month ago." He said stonily, turning back to her. His nostrils flared, like he was monitoring his breathing… though air no longer passed through the ghosts lungs.

"I'm sorry. I really am, Malfoy. I wish I'd known…"

"So you could do _what, _Granger? You couldn't have helped if you'd known."

The pain in her stomach became too much, and she felt sick.

"I—I think I need to go now." She said weakly, walking to the metal gates. She gripped the rough metal, feeling it scraping her hands, but it wouldn't budge at her pushing. The whole situation gave her a very panicked feeling; Locked in the Malfoy Manor Gardens, Malfoy himself watching her struggling with a thoughtful look on his face.

_Why didn't I ask McGonagall how to get home!_

"Granger, wait—" He said kindly, as kindly as she'd ever heard him. "Here."

He walked up behind her, so close that she would have felt his breath on her neck if he'd been alive. "You can't get out from this side unless you have permission. There, you should be alright, now."

"Thank you!" She squeaked, pushing on the gates. They opened smoothly, like nothing was there, and Hermione stumbled a little in her haste. She took a few steps out onto the grass and saw a road down the hill. The gates closed behind her.

"Goodbye, Hermione." Draco said softly.

She turned to look at him, but the ghost had vanished. Hermione blinked and prepared to Apparate, with a euphoria descending on her, very much like a dream.

_I don't think I want to wake up, though._


	3. When You Love Too Much

**Authors note: Well… I don't really have anything to say about this chapter. I'll admit, it's a bit patched together, but I'd like to think it turned out all right in the end. Unfortunately, I had to rush it a bit. So, here it is, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter characters, blahdiblah.**

Hermione Apparated to her flat, shared with Ron in a quaint corner of London. She rushed to the bathroom and splashed a few handfuls of water onto her face. It did nothing to slow her pounding heart. She couldn't for the life of her explain why she felt the way she did, but it could only be described as the most intense sort of exhilaration. Like when she'd ridden on a rollercoaster for the first time as a child.

_That's it! _She thought with a combination of awe and confusion. _I feel like I'm a little girl again._

She glanced at the Muggle clock on the wall in the kitchen. Ron would be home soon. Yet Hermione couldn't bring herself to do anything about it. Her mind was still on the Manor, Draco's translucent face… it was like he'd entrapped her mind with his existence.

_It's scary. _She thought to herself… because she'd never allowed herself to think of Draco Malfoy beyond him being a Death Eater, or being a bully at Hogwarts. A threat.

She poured herself a cup of water from the tap and sat on her couch. Minutes passed, then an hour… and Hermione really wasn't aware of how much time had passed. And strangely, she didn't care. She was taking the time she needed to come back to reality, and settle back within herself.

"HERMIONE!"

She gave a start at the sight of Ronald Weasley's red hair in the floo flames of their fireplace.

"Welcome home, Ron."

Ron wrapped her in a hug when she stood up, smoothing down her unmanageable hair.

"Fantastic day at work, it was. We haven't had such a party since Fudge was shipped off to Australia. Is dinner ready?"

"Oh! Erm… I'm sorry Ron. I completely forgot. I'll make something now! It won't take me more than twenty minutes."

Ron gave her a concerned look. Hermione was nothing if not organized. Her couldn't remember the last time that she'd ever forgotten something that was so regular in her daily routine, and more than often reminded Ron of little things.

"You know what... I'm not that hungry. I ate loads at the party, anyway. But what about you?"

"I'm not very hungry, either." Hermione said quietly, her mind drifting to Malfoy again.

"What's wrong with you, 'Mione? Ever since the paper this morning…" He took Hermione's face in his hands and his thumbs ran over her cheeks.

"It's nothing you have to worry about." She lied. She knew that Ron wouldn't read the hidden meaning in her words. Just because it was nothing for _him _to worry about didn't mean that it was something _she _was worried about. Ron took thing at face value. But it was one of the reasons she loved him.

"Promise?"

"Promise." Hermione nodded, avoiding his warm chocolate eyes. They would only make her feel worse.

Hermione lay in bed next to Ron, who'd fallen asleep after an evening of love-making. He snored softly, and Hermione couldn't resist a smile. It was one of the many traits she'd discovered of the young man, after the war.

How he snored when he slept. That he could hardly function without his cup of coffee in the morning, a habit he'd picked up after he'd left Hogwarts. That Ron couldn't stand watching the news, and left the room when Hermione turned it on. He was also terribly territorial about the Christmas sweaters his mother sent him, for as ugly as they were, they were knitted with his mother's love. And Ron couldn't resist her own mother's chocolate chip cookies. Of course, she'd run in to some parts of his personality that she had successfully ignored when they were younger; his temper and stubbornness, how he was often far more close-minded than she was.

_If I'd gotten to see Draco before he killed himself… could things have changed? Would I have discovered parts of him that I hadn't seen at Hogwarts?_

More than anything, Hermione felt a sense of loss. A young life had been extinguished from the world, and that made her very sad. But the sadness was overshadowed by outrage at the article about her childhood tormentor. She could hardly stand the knowledge that his sacrifices and his accomplishments were being left by the wayside, replaced by a bunch of lies. By people he'd considered _friends, _no less. It was unfair, and Hermione wanted the truth to be known. Draco Malfoy had never been perfect… but there was certainly more to him than being the youngest Death Eater, following in his father's footsteps.

She remembered him as so much more than that.

And she wanted others to remember him as more than that, too. Perhaps the only way that could come to pass was if she knew him. _Truly _knew him, for his fears, his aspirations, and his reasons for his past actions.

So Hermione used McGonagall's fireplace to Apparate to the Manor again. She half expected Malfoy to appear out of nowhere… something a ghost would do, right? But he wasn't in sight. She took a few tentative steps onto the grounds, like she was walking on glass. In a way, she was. The glass road of her subconscious. She knew that Bellatrix Lestrange was dead… along with Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy… but the Manor still left an ominous chill weighing down on her.

"Back again, are you? Just can't get enough of me, can you Granger?" Draco Malfoy stood before her, a confident smirk on his face, his arms crossed over his chest.

_You're not too far off there…_

"Would it kill you to announce your presence without sneaking up on me?" Hermione asked exasperatedly, her gaze falling within the Manor doorway.

"It's not my fault your aren't observant." He argued.

Hermione stared at him stubbornly. He sighed, his expression looking pinched.

"You'd might as well come in, Granger."

"C-Come in?" She squeaked, and was appalled at the sound.

"Yes, come in. Unless you don't want to, of course. I'm only trying to be polite…"

"Um, thank you. I guess I'll take you up on that." She said nervously. Draco made no comment at her odd twitches, or the fact that she was biting her lip. Hermione was scared, there was no doubt about that. The last time she'd set foot in the Manor, she'd been tortured and branded a Mudblood. Not her fondest memories. The horror and humiliations had lasted for years. She rubbed her arm absently, following Malfoy down the entrance hall.

Everything was different now. The empty coldness of the house was apparent, and she didn't know how Malfoy could stand it.

_I suppose he has no choice. _

From the little that Hermione did know about ghosts, it was that they were nearly always chained to their place of death. But beyond that, Hermione knew virtually nothing. And that bothered her.

Malfoy turned into a small doorway, and Hermione was surrounded by heat.

"Magical Fire." Malfoy explained, motioning to the fireplace to their left. "It never goes out."

Hermione nodded and glanced around, eying the portraits on the walls. Strangely enough, not a single one moved. The room was decorated by old-fashioned décor and depressed sorts of colors, mostly black and dark cherry tones. The armchair and couch had small amounts of dust on their coverings. The parlor of the Malfoy Manor was merely a hollow representation of its former grandeur.

Hermione lowered herself gingerly onto the couch, feeling quite out of place. Draco took the armchair to her right, a sour look descending on his features. Hermione wanted to ask what was wrong, but kept her mouth shut. The uncomfortable silence seemed too much for the Malfoy heir, and said, "I suppose you married Weasleby and have 14 kids by now, right?"

Hermione laughed. "It's not physically possible to have that many children in

two years!"

"But you didn't deny that you're married. And here, some part of me figured you'd end up with Potter."

"No, no. I'm not married to either of them. I just live with Ron right now."

"Not surprising. We had a little bet running in the Slytherin house. Whether you'd end up with Weasle or Potter. I personally said the two of them would learn to share, and you'd remain the Golden Trio forever."

"Oh, _ew! _Definitely not! Besides, Harry and I have never been like that."

"Not ever? You've never once thought the Boy-Who-Lived was shaggable? Not even a tiny crush?"

Hermione made a face. "Never."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and she caved.

"Okay, just once. When we were hunting for Horcruxes, Ron took off and I stayed with Harry. I was really upset then, you have to understand. Harry was just trying to be kind to me… and things got a little weird. But it never went anywhere! Oh, why am I even talking to you about this!"

"Because I'm a fantastic listener."

"Who would've thought?" Hermione smiled.

"You're the first to take advantage of my gift. Well, I suppose there was Pansy too, bawling her eyes out when she got pregnant during our fifth year. Like _I _could do anything about it. Best I could do was call Severus to help her out."

"That's a shame, really. I doubt the troll appreciated it."

"You might be right, there."

Hermione felt like a warm glow had taken place in her body. Bickering with Malfoy just felt so _normal. _She could almost forget that he was dead, and that they'd been enemies their entire childhood. In fact, she hadn't felt this normal since when she'd first met Harry and Ron on the Hogwarts express. In the reality of the unspoken truth, Hermione decided to take a leap and test their boundaries.

"Wait." Something obvious had occurred to Hermione. "You said that you parents were killed a month ago?" She asked cautiously.

"Yes. More than a month ago, actually. It was May 3rd." Malfoy glanced away, a faraway look in his eyes.

"But then... why wasn't their murder in the papers? It wasn't reported at all."

"Come on now, Granger. I thought you, at least, had a decent head on your shoulders. I can't say the same of the other two Muskateers, but I thought you had figured it out by now. Why do you think that the press would have such a field day at my death, and yet are so hush-hush about my parent's murder?"

She took in a sharp breath. "You mean that the Ministry had something to do with it?"

"They had _everything _to do with it, Granger. They investigated the very same night. But they never spoke a word of it. Why? After all, wouldn't the public rejoice at the deaths of an ex-death eater and his wife? But they didn't report their deaths because _that_ could incriminate them. My parents were pardoned, after all. They were under the protection of the Ministry, fat lot of good it did them. The Ministry sent the very Aurors that killed them." He snorted.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Hermione said lamely.

"Who would believe me? Besides, I had more important things on my mind than picking a fight with the Ministry."

_Of course he did! He'd just seen his parents killed!_

"I remember that fat toad Umbridge had quite a few run-ins with Potter during our fifth year. That's why I knew that you would believe that the Ministry is every bit as corrupt as the Dark Lord himself."

"I do believe you." Hermione said. "I'm just sorry this happened to you. That petty revenge lead to all this." _Lead to you taking your life._

Malfoy seemed to read her thoughts. "It wasn't the first time. My parents dying just sped the process along, really."

"What?" Hermione asked breathlessly. She was having a hard time taking in so much at one time.

Malfoy swallowed. "It wasn't the first time that-that I've tried to kill myself."

"When? Why?"

"Are you sure you want to know, Granger? I mean, you hardly even know me. This doesn't seem like the best topic for casual conversation. And, to be honest, I don't really know why you're here at all."

_In other words, it's really none of my business._

Hermione couldn't really blame him. She was asking dreadfully personal questions… things that she would be hesitant to answer in the best of situations. And Hermione was virtually a stranger, despite their colorful history. She wasn't Malfoy's friend. She didn't consider herself to be his enemy anymore. She wasn't his _anything. _

_But, do I want to keep it that way…?_

"I… I _do _want to know." Hermione announced, meeting his eyes. The blue-grey depths were clouded with emotion before hardening again.

"Why? Why would you care about what happened to me now?"

Hermione flinched at the accusation. Mostly because it was the truth. "I wish that I'd tried to get to know you then. Perhaps I'm just as close-minded as Luna always told me I was. I thought I was forgiving… but obviously I couldn't see past my own hate. I didn't even _think _about trying to help you."

"I didn't ask for you _help, _Granger." He sneered. "And I wouldn't have accepted it, regardless."

"I still would have offered it." She replied, insulted. "As it is now, I…"

"You couldn't have known, Granger."

"Even so.. I.. I just feel like I should have done something!"

_ Like it's my fault._

"Developed a hero-complex just like Potter, have you Hermione? You can't save the whole goddamn world! Some things just can't be fixed." Draco raised his voice.

"I don't have a hero-complex." Hermione sniffed. "But is it so wrong to want to help people?"

"And that's the difference between you and me, Hermione. You Gryffindors, always trying to save others. You feel guilt over people you hardly _know. _That's the exact opposite of the Slytherin way. We take care of ourselves, and accept that some things are beyond our control... and that sometimes, it's not any of our bloody business to go meddling in other people's lives!" Malfoy spat, but there was really no venom in his voice.

"That's not true. And you know it." Hermione said softly. "You just care more than you want to admit. Because you _Slytherins_ are all afraid of losing the things you care about, if you love them too much."

Malfoy stiffened. "Don't act like you know everything, Granger. And _especially _don't act like you know me!"

"Oh, stop pretending, Malfoy! You're not the cold, heartless Princee of Slytherin. If you were, you wouldn't have—" Hermione cut herself off suddenly, horrified at what she was about to say.

"I wouldn't have what?" He asked threateningly.

"You wouldn't have killed yourself when your parents were murdered." She finished. She didn't want to see his reaction, and glanced away.

Malfoy didn't speak for over a minute. Hermione could feel his gaze on her, like a cat fascinated with a particularly interesting mouse.

Finally, he said, "You Gryffindors are a presumptuous bunch, aren't you?"

Hermione just smiled weakly.

"Tell me honestly, Granger… why are you here?" Malfoy asked.

"I want to tell your story. The _real _story."

Hermione didn't know where the idea came from… it was like a flash of lightning, inspiration. Something inside her was driving her to do this. Perhaps it was the Gryffindor in her; the need for justice. Or perhaps it was just her thirst for knowledge. But she knew that Draco Malfoy deserved more than the article in the Daily Profit.

She had some confidence in her writing ability; more than adequate to complete outstanding essays at Hogwarts. But writing about a real person was a daunting challenge.

Malfoy's eyebrows knitted together. "You want to write about me? Whatever for?"

"Because I want to."

"That's a stupid reason." He snorted.

"I didn't think you'd want to listen to my high-handed explanations."

"You know me so well."

_Not as well as I'd like to. And I can't stand standing by while vultures from the Profit tarnish the memory of you._

"Even if you _did _write about me… or anything about my life, you couldn't get it published. The Ministry will put a stop to anything written about their hand in my parent's death, or the details of my time as a Death Eater. And without the truth, there's no point to it."

"Don't worry about the details, Malfoy. Just trust me. I will publish every word, and the Ministry won't be able to do a thing about it."

A plan was forming in her mind… and the Ministry would know what was coming until it was far too late.

Malfoy gave her a faint smile. "I really don't know how you do it, Granger."

"I'm called the brightest witch of my age for a reason."

Hermione decided to call it a day, and Apparated to the Ministry. Luckily, if she pulled a few good strings, she'd have no trouble dealing with the complications.

_It looks like I'll be paying Rita a visit._


	4. Hermione's Move

**Author's Note: Okay, I'll finally get back on track for this story! I'm really sorry for the delay on these last few chapters. I've been in Norway on vacation, so I haven't had an opportunity to write anything. So I wrote a couple of chapters on the plane! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Not any part of it. Bummer.**

Hermione flooed to the steps of the Ministry from her flat after changing into more appropriate robes. She took on the appearance of a self-assured woman on a mission, even going so far as to try to pull her nightmare-hair into a ponytail. It almost worked, too.

The main office of the Daily Prophet, inhabited by Rita Skeeter, was located in a room down a long hallway of the Ministry of Magic. She rapped on the door and was met by a young secretary with a pinched and tired face.

"I'm here to see Miss Skeeter."

Oh, how it irked her to address the horrible woman without any profanity.

The secretary sniffed, "_Madame _Skeeter won't be taking any tips or interviews to. I can take a message, and she'll get back to you as soon as she can."

The girl said this with the inflection of an automated machine.

"I don't think you understand." Hermione continued. "I know for a fact that Skeeter would be thrilled to listen to what I have say. And between you and me, neither of you can afford to let me walk out that door."

"What did you say your name was?" The secretary asked.

Hermione ignored her. "I know that you have _some _way of contacting Skeeter. So just tell her that my story involves a particularly nasty new breed of beetle. She _jump _to talk to me."

"That hardly seems important—"

Hermione fixed her with a look. "What if it really _is _important, then? What if Skeeter fires you because you were too stubborn to send her a little message? If she isn't interested, she won't see me. It's simple."

She could see the gears working in the secretary's head. She finally settled on the safest choice. The girl stood up and turned to the back wall, tapping her wans on it three times. There was a creaking sound, and the wall melted away. This action revealed a disheveled Rita Skeeter, scribbling away furiously at her desk. In fact, there were multiple quills, five or six, all levitating and working at the same time.

_So this is how Skeeter publishes her drivel. _Hermione thought.

"I told you I'm busy, Jessamine!" Rita said, not looking up.

"I think you'll want to head this, Miss Skeeter." Hermione said.

Rita jerked out of her chair, and an array of emotions flitted across her face. Anger, fear, shock. Then came the fight-or-flight instinct. But Hermione had made sure that Rita couldn't transform to flee as long as Jessamine had seen her.

A sickly-sweet smile settled on the writer's lips. "Well, if it isn't Hermione Granger! So you've finally decided to come clean on your _scandalous _romantic relationship with Harry Potter."

Jessamine suddenly seemed interested.

Hermione snorted. "I'm afraid not. But I _do _have a story for you."

Rita sent Jessamine to get some tea, then the smile disappeared. "Now, you listen here, Girlie. I will _not _let you manipulate me like this! Do you know how much power I have in the Ministry? I could _end _you. Your life would be miserable if I published an article about you."

Hermione knew that Rita was bluffing. "As if you haven't already _tried. _As soon as the truth about your little _gift _is revealed, all your credibility goes down the tube. Making anything you have written about me, and whatever you plan to write in the future, meaningless. And your problem is much easier to confirm than any rumors about me. One word to the Ministry, Skeeter, and you'll be rotting in Azkaban prison."

"What are you planning?" Rita asked stiffly.

"I certainly don't have to tell _you_ that. All you need to do is be a good girlie and do what you're told. I want complete control of your publishing faction whenever I want it."

Hermione was sure that Rita was the last step in the line before the Daily Prophet was delivered to thousands of people. She edited the paper and could choose what and what not to publish. Meaning Hermione would be free to write whatever she pleased and the Ministry would be none the wiser until the Prophet was already in the hands of witches and wizards everywhere. There was no way the Ministry could clean up the damage before it was already impossible. They could wipe everyone's minds. Even if few believed Draco's story, Hermione was confident that the seeds of distrust would grow and fester. Eventually, truth would prevail.

"Fine!" Rita spat. "It's yours, but for one story only! I don't care if you throw me in Azkaban, I will not let you steal the Prophet from me. And leave my name out of it!"

Hermione made no promises on that last bit. Because if things worked out according to plan, Rita Skeeter would be finished.

Draco looked at the black object in Hermione's hand with badly-disguised curiosity.

"It's a muggle recorder." Hermione explained, holding it out for him to see. "It records you voice. I was just going to listen to is later, instead of using a quill."

"There is such a thing as a *Quick-Quotes Quill, you know."

"I never use those things." Hermione said disdainfully. "I'm oldfashioned. I prefer to write things out myself."

Draco snorted, but didn't say anything else. He led her to the parlor again.

"You're really serious about this?" He said, more like a statement than a question.

"I am." She said. "And I think we should start with your parents."

Draco nodded like that was what he'd expected. "What do you want to know?"

Hermione was a little surprised at his willingness to cooperate, but took it in stride.

"What happened? Why did the Ministry come after them?"

"I don't really know why. But I can guess. You remember how much power my father had in the Ministry a few years ago. Even though he was a Death Eater, not all of his support disappeared after the War. But _someone _didn't like that. Although it could have just been petty revenge. I suppose I'll never really know for sure."

"Not Kingsley Shacklbolt…?"

"I don't think so. He seems like a trustworthy sort. It was someone else."

Hermione tucked that bit of information away for later.

"Could you… could you tell me a few details about the attack? I mean, you don't have to make it too graphic, if it makes you uncomfortable." She flushed.

"If we're going to do this, Hermione, we're going to do this right."

She felt proud of Draco for his courage. "Do you know who attacked you? Before, you mentioned that they were Aurors…"

"I recognized a few of them… Dawlish, Harvick, Sentenia, Damian…"

"And how did they get into the Manor?"

"Very few people were given permission to enter the grounds. But my father was ordered to lower the wards. He was the only one who could at the time, besides my mother and I. That's also how I knew that it must have been planned by someone from the Ministry. No one else could threaten my father into lowering the wards like that. Anyway, they snuck in while the wards were down. We were outnumbered, and we were forced to surrender our wands. There was nothing we could have done. I tried-" Draco swallowed. "I tried to fight them, but they told me they would kill my mother if I did anything."

"Did they make any demands? What did they want from you?"

"There was a lot of yelling… but the only thing I could make out was "I'm taking back what belongs to me". And a lot of taunting. Then we were all rounded up and tied up in the parlor. Each of us had a wand to our necks. Then the torture started. First my father."

"Cruciatus?"

"Yes. Among… other things. Incendio was particularly ugly. They healed the burns, only to burn him again. And my mother and I were forced to _watch _everything!"

"I'm sorry." Hermione said.

Draco ignored her. "It was weird, to see him like that. My strong, invicible father reduced to a snivelling heap on the floor."

He said it off-handidly, but Hermione could hear the hollowness in his words. That, she realized, was probably the moment that Draco Malfoy broke.

She swallowed, waiting for him to continue.

"The Cruciatus curse... no matter how many times it's been used on you, it never really hurts any less." He said.

"Did… did they use it on you?"

"Only a few times. You never really understand why it's unforgivable until it's used on you."

"I know what you mean." Hermione said. She saw Draco flinch as he remembered that the reason Hermione could sympathize was because his own aunt had tortured her.

_Uncomfortable territory, Hermione. I think we should avoid this part of the story for as long as possible._

"It was humiliating." Draco whispered. Not being in control of his own body, screaming so loudly, and feeling so powerless. His screaming had sounded strange to his own ears. His attackers just stood over him, smiling, enjoying beating down he and his parents into submission.

Hermione was silent. Her mind wandered to the scar on her arm. _Mudblood. _Being marked by Bellatrix's knife was far worse than the Cruciatus curse.

"What happened next?"

"Then they started in on my mother. With a cutting curse. They said they wanted to _mark her beautiful face. _Because any bitch of the Malfoy's deserved a face like a dog.And I just couldn't let them do anything to her! I begged them to stop. So they told me I'd have to take her place. I did of course. And I did so, gladly. My mother was one of the few people I allowed myself to care for in this world. That was the only thing I was grateful for… that my mother didn't suffer any physical pain before they used Avada Kedavra on the two of them."

"Who are the others?" Hermione whispered. "Who else did you care about?"

"What about you?" He countered.

Hermione faltered. "Well, I... I care about my parents... Harry, Ron, the teachers and students at Hogwarts. Of course, the Weasleys... Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom…"

Draco was silent for a few seconds before saying, "I cared for my mother. And I cared about Pansy, though she was an annoying bint. And Crabbe and Goyle, my favorite lackeys. Severus kept me in one piece towards the end of my life... More of a father to me than my own father was most of the time. And I definitely cared about you, Granger."

Hermione's heart stopped in her chest.

"You… you did?" She asked incredulously.

He smirked. "I did. Keep in mind, I said _cared about. _Not _cared for. _I was nearly as obsessed with the Prodigal Mudblood as I was with the Dimwit Golden Boy. I definitely noticed you existed, which was more than I could say for most people. Especially after you punched my nose."

Hermione flinched at the derogatory term, but didn't let it bother her. She knew Draco didn't mean it.

_Everyone Draco just listed… is either dead, or betrayed him in the end. Except for me. _Hermione realized.


	5. Regrets

**Author's note: I plan on The Ghost Of Draco Malfoy ending in threeish chapters, including an epilogue. Like I said in chapter one, the shorter the story is, the more likely I am to finish it. I've already started slacking too much. Read, review, and please send me your opinions! Thank you.**

**I do not own Harry Potter in any way shape or form.**

"Let's back-track a bit, shall we? You mentioned that you've tried to—to kill yourself before. Can you explain that a bit?" Hermione stumbled over her words.

"Well… I suppose the first time I thought about it was towards the end of our fourth year. But I wasn't really serious that time. I cut my wrists… a very shallow cut, so I healed before my parents even noticed. Not that they probably would have, unless I was bleeding on the carpet or something."

Hermione digested this. "Why?"

"Cutting was how I coped with the stress. My father was angry all the time, because Voldemort was back. And my mother was constantly depressed. It was rebellion on my part, too, My father would have been so _ashamed _that I was weak enough to resort to such muggle remedies. That's why it was the best option to get at him."

"So you only tried it at home?" Hermione asked. Her mind was whirring.

"No. Most times were at Hogwarts, actually. The _real _attempts started after my father was thrown into Azkaban... things went downhill from there. My mother was miserable and wasting away... and I was too. And during our 6th year, life became a living hell. Voldemort had all of us hanging by our thumbs. I was so afraid of what he would make me do, who he'd make me kill... So one night in the bathroom I was so depressed that I thought about drowning myself. _In the toilet._"He snorted like he'd said something hilarious. Hermione didn't find it very funny.

"But you didn't?"

"Myrtle stopped me."

"Myrtle stopped you?"

"What are you, a parrot now? If I'm going to have to talk to you, Granger, I'd appreciate more insightful responses." Draco said sarcastically. She could see in his body language that he was nervous opening up to her. He probably felt the same about everyone.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "If that's how you feel, then fine. I'll leave right now. Have a nice life-after-death, Malfoy." She made to grab her bag, but Draco reached out a hand to stop her. He frowned when it passed through her skin, as if it finally dawned on him that he was a ghost.

"Sorry. I _want _you to be here, Granger. More than anyone else."

"Call me Hermione. You calling me Granger reminds me too much of school. Besides, I'd say we're much beyond that." She said wryly.

Yes. They were most certainly beyond those petty, childish days. She was now documenting Draco's last words, in the mansion where his relatives had nearly caused her death. And here was where Draco had ended his own life. Where his parents were murdered.

"Would you like to continue?" Hermione asked, going on in a business-like voice.

"No, I would not like to continue. Come back tomorrow." Draco said in an empty voice. Hermione looked at him, startled by the change, but nodded. She knew that Draco needed time. And he had all the time in the world.

THISISASPACERSPACERSPACER.

With Ron being an Auror, Hermione had no real reason to stay at home alone. In all honesty, neither of them had any need to work a day for the rest of their lives with the gold that had been forced on them after the war, but that didn't stop Ron or Hermione. And Hermione rarely worked at the publishing agency she was affiliated with, only if she had nothing better to do. With her freedom, she had the time to pursue her own personal projects with energy and passion, just as she had in school. She couldn't stand not putting herself to use, and would be damned before she was nothing but a political figurehead or poster-girl in the aftermath of the war.

Hermione threw herself whole-heartedly into Malfoy's story. She prepared breakfast for she and her boyfriend, worked on her notes for the book until lunch, then flooed to the Manor. Mcgonagall had grown used to seeing Hermione everyday, popping her bushy head from the fireplace to say hello. She spent less and less time at her flat, returning a short hour before Ron got off work. So it went for three weeks. She couldn't lie to Ron, but she didn't tell him what exactly she was doing with her time. He just knew that his girlfriend was at the Malfoy Manor for hours most days. And that was enough to irritate the young man.

Ron's frustration boiled over one evening, when Hermione mentioned that she wouldn't be home until late the next day.

"It's not like you're ever around, anyway." Ron grumbled. "You spend more time at the Manor than you do with me! With the _ghost of Malfoy! _What is _wrong _with you, Hermione?"

"I don't know what's wrong with _you. _I don't know why you're reacting like this, Ron! So what if I'm talking to him?"

"How did you _think _I would react? You're with our worst enemy from school. You hated him! We all did! He was a Death Eater, and a bloody bully, 'Mione!"

"Well, I don't hate him now!" Hermione said, and refused to talk about it any more. Ron was just infuriating sometimes.

They slept facing opposite directions that night.

THISISASPACERSPACERSPACER.

Draco continued with his story, picking up with his suicide attempts in the bathroom.

"Myrtle told me that I should choose a better place if I was going to end it all. The bathrooms aren't the most _aesthetically pleasing_ places to be looking at for eternity. I ended up telling her everything. I needed _someone _to know, even if it was a whiny ghost. And she was a surprisingly good listener. But things weren't going to get better, and Myrtle understood that. So, she courteously offered to let me share a cubicle with her when I finally chalked up the nerve to finish the job."

"How kind of her." Hermione said sarcastically.

"In her mind, it was. Did Potter ever tell you about when he used Sectum Sempra on me?" He looked at her, eyes narrowed.

She nodded. Harry had finally told her after the War was over. "And you tried to use Avada Kadavra on him."

Draco laughed wryly. "I was in the bathroom that night because I was going to kill myself there. I was really going to do it. Little did I know, Potter would be there to do the job himself."

Hermione was shocked, but she wouldn't let it show. She'd had no idea how lost Draco was back then. After all, how could she have? They were too busy playing enemies. Harry was the only one who'd noticed that _anything _was wrong with him.

"But, as you know, Snape saved me from bleeding to death. I felt sorry for Myrtle because I wasn't going to get to join her, after all. That was the last time I saw her. I suppose she'd probably still there in the bathroom, peeking at the students. But anyway, I found myself alone in Snape's office, on a transfigured bed. I was in so much pain, I didn't know which way was up. But I still had my wand. So I tried to finish what Potter started."

Hermione felt the need to defend her friend, or at least clear up a misunderstanding. "Harry _never _meant to try to_ kill_ you, Draco. He had no idea what _Sectum Sempra _would do. He never would have—"

Draco snorted. "I knew that. That much was pretty obvious… the look on his face after he cast the curse was priceless. I doubt that your Golden Boy could kill anyone, not even his worst enemy. He doesn't have the back bone."

Hermione wasn't sure if this was a compliment or an insult. The way Draco sneered made his true feelings on the matter unclear.

"Anyway, Snape caught me before I had a chance to complete the cutting curse on myself. He told my mother about it... She was devastated. I'd never seen her so upset, even when my father went to Azkaban. I was all she had left, and... well, I didn't want to see her sad ever again. Even if it meant putting my own problems aside for a while. That was probably the only good thing I've ever done for my mother."

"That's not true, Draco. I'm sure it's not." She protested. Narcissa had thought the world of her son, loved him more than anything… probably even her husband.

"Oh, what do _you_ know, Hermione?" He said tiredly, attempting to act like his old self and failing miserably. Especially since he was using her given name.

_Okay, time to change the subject…_

Hermione, the clever witch that she was, picked up on something Draco figured she would have let slide as a slip of the tongue.

"Myrtle knew that you would become a ghost?"

"Why would you think that?" Draco said sharply.

"She was warning you that bathrooms aren't "aesthetically pleasing". That implies that you would be seeing it after death, for eternity, as you said. Meaning she assumed you'd become a ghost."

Draco seemed to be choosing his words carefully. He sighed, and explained. "Chances are extremely high that wizards who commit suicide will return as ghosts."

"Why?" She was genuinely curious. She'd never heard these things before.

"The simple answer is, most feel regret during or after they commit suicide. Of course, it's too late to come back to life, so they imprint themselves. Not always consciously, but it can't be helped."

"And the complicated answer?"

"Accidental magic. A wizard's magic normally kicks in when the wizard is in danger. So when the wizard panics during or after committing suicide, the magic goes berserk and _forces _an imprint of the wizard onto the world. There's a lot of text-book mumbo jumbo that even _you _would have difficulties understanding."

"And which one were you?"

"None of your business, Granger." He snapped.

Hermione put her hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, I submit. But I thought we were past last names?"

Hermione was taken aback when Draco's signature sneer appeared on his face full force. "Well, you thought wrong. Eternally presumptuous, aren't we, Lion? "

"I'm trying to help you, Malfoy. The least you could do is be _civil. _Or is that beyond your mental capacity?" Hermione shot back, hurt stinging her eyes.

"I didn't ask you to help me, Granger! And I don't know why I ever let you into my home. I don't know what I was thinking, really!"

"I'm sorry that a _mudblood _has defiled your precious manor!" Hermione said, her voice raised. "I'll save you the trouble kicking me out… I'll save you the trouble and remove myself!"

She gathered her bag from the floor and stalked off, head held high. She wouldn't let the Slytherin Ferret see how much she cared. Maybe she was being silly and immature, but she wouldn't stay and be insulted. With a hint of regret in her heart, she returned home.


	6. Harry's Retrospect

**Thank you so much for adding me to your story alerts, or even favorite-ing this story! It makes me so happy. Anyway, I like hearing your opinions and ideas, so don't be shy with that review button!**

"Mione', we hardly ever talk anymore. I don't even _see _you." Ron whined one night as Hermione was getting ready for bed.

"We're talking right now, Ron." She said guiltily. She looked at their reflection in the bedroom mirror.

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I've been so busy lately…"

"You're always _busy, _Hermione. When we were in school, it was with studying. While we were fighting Voldemort, it was research to help Harry," He took a breath. "When we started… you know, _going out, _I thought that would mean we would be closer. I'd get to see you more often, and we'd put each other above all other things."

Hermione was a little touched. She turned to him. "Is that what you want, Ron? That I put everything aside for our relationship?"

"Well, yeah… I guess." He looked embarrassed.

"You knew the sort of person I was when you asked me to be your girlfriend. And I admit that I haven't changed much since I was eleven in that respect. But I'm willing to try, for you, if you'll give me the chance."

Ron's face split in a smile, and he pulled her into a huge hug. He brushed a lock of her hair from her cheek. "Listen, Hermione. You've been wasting all your time at that cursed Malfoy estate. I really don't understand what's so important that you have to spend your entire life there for. Harry has been asking for us to come visit he and Teddy for weeks, and I'm tired of having to make excuses for you! What am I supposed to say to him, Hermione? We're all he has, besides Luna and the others. He's got to be lonely, especially since Ginny's living with Dean now."

Hermione cringed inwardly. Ron always used Harry to attack her conscience when his complaining wasn't getting through. But this time, Hermione knew he was right.

"You're asking me to choose between Draco and Harry?" She realized. She knew this moment would come eventually.

"No, I'm asking to choose between your friends and a bully from school."

She vowed to lay her manuscript to rest for a few days. She needed to get back in the real world, clear her head, because time hardly seemed to pass in the Manor.

"We can go see him tomorrow." Hermione said.

"Bill and Fleur will be there, too. They told me they miss their future "sister-in-law." There words, not mine." Ron kissed her and said a quick, "Nox".

.

Harry greeted Hermione and Ron at the door of Grimmauld place, a sleeping Teddy in his arms. An immense relief crossed his face when he saw them, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

_I guess he really is lonely. _Hermione realized.

"Come in, guys. I'll just put Teddy in his room for a nap. He'll be thrilled when he wakes up to see his favorite Aunt and Uncle."

Harry had remodeled parts of Grimmauld place, making it a little cozier and welcoming, but had kept things fundamentally the same. It reminded him of Sirius.

Bill gave Hermione a hug when they entered the living room, Fleur kissing her on both cheeks. When she did the same to Ron, he blushed scarlet.

Teddy woke up at the commotion, but was so excited that Harry decided it was a terrible idea to have him in the house.

"Go in the back yard and play with Victoire; But be gentle, she's much smaller than you!"

When all four of them were seated in the living room with tea cups in hand, Fleur cooed over Harry's apparent fantastic parenting skills. She was obviously dropping hints to Bill, and that he needed to shape up in that department.

"Harry, he iz so good wiz Teddy! Zee boy loves him very much, I can tell. And he's even starting to talk!"

"Just noises, really. I doubt anyone would consider it _talking." _Harry interjected.

"Ah, but he will begin to form words very soon! Zat was how it went wiz Victoire, isn't zat right, Bill?"

Bill made a noncommittal noise. He made a swift exit when Harry and Fleur began trading notes on children's eating habits.

Ron sniggered at his friend. "You're a genuine Mommy, Harry! You're going to end up worse than my mother!"

Fleur immediately defended him. "Vell, I zink zat it is sweet for a young man to care so much about children! Harry has done a vunderful job raising Teddy alone. You may laugh now, Ronald Weasley, but just wait until you and Hermione have a child of your own!"

For some reason, Hermione felt sick to her stomach at that comment, and excused herself to the washroom. Ron just sputtered a response and turned the shade of a ripe tomato.

A few hours later, Fleur and Bill said that they needed to take Victoire home. Bill picked up his young daughter easily and, with a wink to Ron, apparated to Shell Cottage. Teddy put up such a fit at their leaving that Harry insisted it was time to take another nap. He smiled apologetically at Ron and Hermione.

When he came back, he let out a sigh. "Always full of energy, that one. I think he takes after Tonks like that."

"I don't think I could do it, Harry. Taking care of a little life like that." Hermione admitted.

"You'd be a great Mum, Hermione. It comes pretty naturally, when you hold them in your arms. It's like you can't _help _but love them."

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ron said tentatively. He could see the fatigue on his friend's face, lines that weren't there before.

"You mean, about Ginny?" He asked. He seemed to sink into his chair a little.

Hermione nodded along with Ron.

Harry said, "To be honest, I saw it coming from a mile away. I just ignored it. I had this feeling… that Ginny and I weren't meant to stay together. It was fine while it lasted… but then it was time to move on. Being in love with Ginny was like a habit for me. For the both of us, I think. It was an expected part of our adolescence. But now we've grown up. I just didn't _feel _for her anymore. I realized that you should never be _used _to being with someone." Harry said.

For some reason, Hermione found herself glancing at Ron during Harry's confession. His words struck something in her. And that awful voice in the back of her head whispered, _maybe that's why you fill your life with little side projects. You're avoiding what you don't like about your own life._

"Mum's still in shock, you know. She'd had your wedding planned out for years, the names of her future grandchildren picked out." Ron said, flashing Hermione a look. "I still don't really get why things didn't work out between you two. You were like a couple of the ages, meant to be together forever. And from what I've heard, nothing actually went wrong… so why couldn't you patch things up?"

"Well, for one thing… Ginny didn't react so well to mothering a baby. And it wasn't fair of me to expect her to take on that responsibility, not even for me. We were both so young, She's only eighteen, for Merlin's sake. That's too much for anyone to handle. I think we both overestimated our abilities. I can hardly blame her for wanting out. She deserves a nice, normal life. She needs to experience being young, and fun."

"I don't think my sister minded—"

"She never said it out loud or anything… but I could tell she wasn't happy. I just knew, okay?"

"But what about you, Mate?"

Harry gave a wry smile. "I've never been normal, Ron. I guess I just don't know any better. Maybe Harry Potter just isn't meant to live the life of normalcy like everyone else."

Hermione didn't need to say that he'd done fine, even without Ginny. He'd accepted and thrived with the responsibility. "But _Harry Potter _deserves to be just as happy as the next person!" Hermione insisted. "You could have given Teddy to Andromeda.. why didn't you? Then you could have stayed with Ginny."

She was asking for herself as much as for Harry. If he couldn't make things work, how on earth could she marry Ron one day? It scared her. She was proud of Harry for following his own path and making his own decisions, but she also wondered if it was worth it in the end.

"I don't really know why. But I don't think it was a mistake." Harry looked thoughtful. "I guess I might be trying to make up for the fact that Sirius couldn't fulfill his role as my Godfather. So I'm making sure Teddy is well taken care of… but by his own Godfather."

"I think at this point, Harry, you're more than a Godfather. You're Teddy's father."

Harry had to accept the truth in Hermione's words. "You may be right. But that isn't a step that I'm ready to take, yet."

Hermione really hadn't given Harry enough credit when they were kids. He was perceptive and most certainly had the emotional range of at least three teaspoons. He almost knew Hermione better than she knew herself.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong, Mione'. Because if you're at all like me, you probably haven't figured it out yourself. But you need to find a way to be happy. And sometimes that mean changing some things."

Hermione looked at her best friend of over ten years. His dark hair mussy, a golden snitch blanket in his left hand (quit obviously Teddy's), a tired expression. He was still so boyish, but had the maturity of someone who had lived a hundred lives.

"Are you happy, Harry?"

"Yeah, I am. Most of the time, which is enough for now."

She threw her arm around his shoulder, and he returned her hug warmly.

"Don't be afraid to let people know what you need, Hermione. Or what you don't."

"I'll try." She said, and Harry turned to go up the stairs. He whispered one last thing to her, though.

"_Ron deserves that, at least."_

Hermione was a little stunned. Harry had once again proved that not every member of the male species was as dense as a troll's behind. He somehow knew that Hermione was less than content with her life. And he'd even made the leap before she had, to the heart of the problem.

Maybe, like he and Ginny, Hermione and Ron were not meant to be together forever.


	7. A Guiding Light

**I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. **

**Author's Note: I'm sorry to all my subscribers about the lateness of this chapter! It's extra long, so I hope this makes up for it. I wanted to conclude my tale in one fell swoop! This will be my grand farewell to The Ghost of Draco Malfoy. Thank you for reading up until this point!**

** "**You've got the love

I need to see me through."

-You've Got The Love: Florence + The Machine

Draco may have fought with her, but Hermione wasn't one to drop something unfinished. She still worked furiously everyday, gritting her teeth and calling the pureblood aristocrat every foul name she could think of. She'd completed her research on the Malfoy-Black family tree, written introductions and small, hard-earned stories from his childhood. She'd just begun to ask around about Draco's teenage years. Everything was on track, and her notes were slowly turning into a full-length biography… just as she'd hoped. If only she hadn't been so quick to rile up, maybe she could have finished by now.

She became aware of a shadow standing over her work, and she stopped her quill to see Ron, annoyance plain on his face.

"Oh god, what time is it?" Hermione asked in horror. There was no more sunlight streaming in through her window. Was it that late already?

"Nearly seven."

"Sorry, I was just so focused…" She started.

Ron grunted in response.

Hermione sighed. "You're angry with me."

"You told me that Malfoy insulted you and kicked you out… so why are you still doing this book thing?"

"Well, technically I stormed out on my own…"

"You're _obsessed, _Hermione!"

"I am not," She protested, "That's ridiculous!"

"You're the one who's being ridiculous! Just forget about the Ferret, Hermione! He's not good enough for you, anyway."

She sighed. "Oh, for goodness sakes, Ronald! We're not in a relationship, he's _dead. _He doesn't have to be "good enough"._"_

"And he doesn't deserve you visiting him!"

"You're being so immature!"

"No, I'm being realistic! He's always been a git… and I don't see why you've changed your mind about him. I'm not going to forget all the terrible things he's done, unlike you."

"You're holding a grudge. And I don't see how that's any better."

"It's better because Harry and I can learn from the past!"

She paused, "Is Harry here with you?"

The raven-haired boy walked into the study then, eyeing them both. "Yes, I am."

Harry waited patiently as a yelling match took its course. He knew that there was no point in stopping it now, and it was more beneficial to let them vent their anger. If they lay it all on the table, they would both feel better and hopefully come to an understanding. Plus, he was helpless in the face of Hermione's anger, and didn't particularly want to get in the middle of a lover's spat. He'd had enough of that firsthand with Ginny when they were dating.

"You don't know everything, Ron!"

"That's rich, coming from the Know-It-All herself!"

"I hope you remember that I've saved your sorry arse plenty of times by being a know-it-all!"

"Harry and I would have been perfectly fine, even without you! Right Harry?"

"I really don't want to answer that. And I think we've gotten a little off topic here, haven't we?" Harry said nervously. He wouldn't tell Ron that they would have been dead and buried their first year without Hermione. The man's pride could only take so much.

"Ron, just… for once in your life, think of someone else besides yourself! I need time to sort out my feelings, okay? There's no point in making each other miserable. So let's just give each other some space for now."

"What are you talking about-?" Ron said, reaching out for her arm when he realized that she was about to Disapparate. Hermione winced at his grip, but then stared at him stonily.

"You—you can't just _leave _me!"

"That is exactly what I'm doing, Ron. I'll be back when you learn to be an empathetic human being!" She sent him a disgusted and exasperated glare before continuing on her way.

"Ron, you really are an idiot sometimes," Harry told him.

.

Between their fight and Hermione's apparition, it began to rain heavily. Hermione could hardly see when she appeared before the gates of the Manor, and the frigid drop of water gave her a nasty shock.

She shivered and wanted to scream. So she did, but she screamed Malfoy's name several times.

"For Merlin's sake—Granger, what the bloody hell are you doing here!"

"I'm sorry, this is just the first place I thought of!"

"It's fine. Come in. Merlin, Hermione, you look like a drowned cat!"

"I feel like one, too," She admitted, jogging up the path and into the Manor. "I guess this is what Crookshanks felt like whenever I bathed him."

"That mangy cat was a menace." Draco muttered. He pointed out a pillow for her to transfigure into a towel.

"Oh, Draco, I'm _sorry _for running out on you like that!" She said.

"Hermione…" He looked away. "I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, the only blood heir to the Malfoy Family, hereby grant Hermione Jean Granger the power of blood, and access to the Malfoy Manor. Now you can Apparate into the Manor any time you need to. You can't side-along with people, though."

"Thank you." Hermione said, more than a little flattered. She supposed she was forgiven, then.

"So the Manor has a consciousness of its own?" She wasn't really surprised, because Hogwarts had ancient magic within the stones of the semi-sentient building.

"For now, anyway. I don't know how long that will last, with no living Malfoys within its walls. The wards are already fading."

She noticed him staring at her arm as she toweled her hair off while sitting on the couch. There was a bruise blooming from where Ron had held her back.

"Did you have a fight with Weasle or Potter?" He kneeled before her, careful to not actually touch her.

"Yeah. So I left for a while."

"And did he do that to you?" Draco asked, nodding at the bruises.

"What? Oh, no. He just grabbed my arm and I pulled away too suddenly."

"You swear that's all that happened?" He said, so close his nose nearly brushed hers.

"Yes." She said firmly. Draco seemed to accept her answer, albeit reluctantly.

"Well... you always have a room in the Manor."

Hermione was touched by his offer, and sensed that it was a huge step for the Malfoy heir. Maybe he'd forgiven her for leaving him days ago.

"I mean, there's no way I could stop you, anyway. You have blood access now." He sniffed. Hermione just smiled.

"I've almost finished the book, you know. After that, it'll be published in a matter of days."

"Good." He said. When she yawned, he led her to a room upstairs, purposefully avoiding the cellar. His arms were crossed as she settled into the bed, too tired to even take in her surroundings. He wouldn't tell her that she was in his room.

"You can stay here as long as you like, Hermione. Hopefully, it won't be long until Weaselby comes to his senses and realizes what an arse he's being."

"I wouldn't hold your breath." Hermione muttered. She snuggled under the covers further, until only her eyes and hair were showing. Draco still stood over her, nearly invisible and silvery in the darkness.

He snorted. "Go to sleep, Hermione."

And she did, slipping into the most peaceful slumber she'd had in months, with the ghost of her school-day enemy watching over her. The cool, masculine scent of Draco that lingered on the sheets eased her into her dreams, and followed her even there.

.

Draco and Hermione had their first _real _conversation the next morning after she'd scrounged up some breakfast. She told him about her on-off job of being an author's agent. This job had a very flexible schedule, so she rarely worked regularly. That suited her fine, as she could use her time elsewhere.

He always seemed particularly enthralled with news of Teddy Lupin, and could listen to story after story about the boy. She got her first real laugh out of him when she told him about Teddy breaking into Harry's broom closet with "accidental" magic and zooming through the yard. Harry hadn't been able to catch him for nearly ten minutes.

"That's the Malfoy blood in him, for sure! He's destined to be a fantastic flyer, just you watch."

Hermione often forgot that Draco was related to Nymphadora. Perhaps that was why he liked the little boy.

"I'm sure that I could convince Harry to bring Teddy here, Draco. Would you like that?"

Draco allowed hopefulness to shine in his eyes, and his lips twitched. But it was gone in a flash. "No. I don't think that's… a good idea."

"Draco… do you mind if I ask why you're so interested in Teddy?"

"I do mind, but I'll tell you anyway." He said. "He's a Malfoy… well, technically a Lupin. But he has Malfoy blood flowing through his veins, like me. He's the first one of us to have a real chance in life, without the stigma of my family hanging over his head. I suppose I just want him to have a better life than the rest of us did. I don't want him to turn out like the rest of us."

Hermione was touched, she really was. She never would have guessed that such noble intentions fueled his feelings.

"Maybe I'll make a Gryffindor out of you yet." She smirked.

"Don't insult me. I'm a Slytherin, through and through."

She couldn't help but think that those words meant a lot more to him then he ever let on.

"Maybe we all have a little Slytherin in us." Hermione thought.

He snorted. "Oh, really? What part of your golden little heart is at all Slytherin?"

"Well, I happen to be friends with a Slytherin, actually. And I've come to really care about him, even though it should be impossible because Gryffindor's _hate _Slytherins. And I've chosen to selfishly write about him instead of being with my own Gryffindor friends. If that isn't anti-Gryffindor of me, I don't know what is."

"No, Hermione, you have the heart of a lion, no matter how selfish you may think this is. You're talking to a Slytherin because you're one of the most compassionate and courageous people I know. You're standing up for someone who doesn't deserve it… just like a Gryffindor should."

Draco's face closed off, and his mouth twitched. "Your escort is here to get you."

"What?"

They both turned to a furious red head entering the parlour.

"I just came to get Hermione." Ron said lowly. He stubbornly didn't look at Draco.

"Don't let me stop you, Weasel—your lady awaits." Draco said, gesturing with a mocking arm to Hermione.

Ron's eyes softened then, and looked like he was about to apologize.

"I'm not leaving with you," Hermione cut him off.

"You need to understand this, Ron. And if you can't… then maybe you can't understand me. Maybe we should be together."

"I really don't want to witness this not-so-touching reunion. So Weasley, I suggest that you get over your hate for me if you want to keep Hermione. She's an amazing and infuriating woman, and you'd be an idiot to push her away."

Hermione blinked at him in astonishment, and Ron's mouth fell open.

"I, uh—I guess you're right. I'll just leave—"

"Wait… why don't you join us?" Draco asked.

"Draco—" She knew how vulnerable talking about his life would make him… especially to an enemy.

"It doesn't matter any more, does it? Soon, my entire life's story is going to be published and made public."

Hermione bit her lip. "I guess you're right."

"I'd rather not." Ron said. He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. "I just wanted to make sure you were… you know, alright."

"I'm fine." Hermione said. And she meant it. Ron shot her one last glance, then walked out the way he came.

"Well, that was a lovely interlude." Draco deadpanned.

Hermione gave herself a small shake. She would have to forget about the living for a while, and focus on the dead.

"Let's continue, shall we?"

"I'm sure I'll have something uplifting to tell you." He said sarcastically.

"I'm sure I can find a lighter subject. Let's see… why don't you tell me a story about your mother?" Hermione asked gently.

Draco closed his eyes. "My mother… was a beautiful woman. She may have seemed stiff and cold to the rest of the world, but to me… she was wonderful. Before Voldemort came back, things were much better between she and my father. We used to go on vacations… she'd even put up with being around muggles for me. She even took me to a _park _once. She hated the idea of me being tainted by muggle children, but when she saw how much fun I was having, she convinced my father to let me go once a week. Always in disguise, though."

"What park?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Hendricks," He said.

Hermione looked startled. "I used to play there when I was a kid!"

"Well, bugger for you."

"Anyway, continue. Do you remember… birthday parties?"

"Birthday parties?" Draco continued when Hermione gave an encouraging nod, "Well, they were always huge affairs. My eleventh was the best, of course, because I'd be going off to Hogwarts then. Mother invited Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle—they were my best friends then. I remember that Crabbe looked like a stuffed sausage in his suit. Basically every pureblood came. Every child sat in a circle and tried to use magic without our parents seeing us. Pansy accidentally turned a bowl of soup into sewage water! It ended up being spilled all over mother… she certainly wasn't happy about _that._"

Hermione couldn't stop a giggle. So even the horrid purebloods had been kids once, too.

"The birthday cake that year had a snitch on it… because I told my father that I'd be the new Slytherin seeker." Draco said more quietly, as he often did when he mentioned his father.

"What about your first year at Hogwarts?"

"Well, it was going splendidly until I met a certain Boy-Who-Lived…"

.

"I already told you about the whole Dumbledore nightmare, and the vanishing cabinets… and my time on the run with Snape… so I guess you'll want to hear about the after math. Even though we were pardoned, people still could never trust the Malfoy's again. But that was _nothing _compared to what my Mother went through. She suffered so much… but she never left us. Even though it was because of our weakness that her life was so terrible. She would _never _have had anything to do with Voldemort. But she was loyal to her family until the very end. If it wasn't for the Malfoy name… my mother wouldn't have been murdered. I could never hate my father, though. But I knew after our fifth year that I didn't want to be him. Seeing him sent to Azkaban was the worst moment of my life."

"But you still tried to murder Dumbledore!" Hermione said.

He closed his eyes for a moment. "_That _is my greatest regret. But what could I have done? You may not understand, Hermione, with all your Gryffindor courage, what it's like to be conflicted. You never had to make a decision like this. The "right" path has always been laid before you. You've never had to figure it out by yourself!"

"That's not entirely true." Hermione admitted. "I had to make plenty of hard decisions. But you are right, it wasn't the same."

Draco looked at her curiously, "And what decisions did the Golden Girl have to make?"

She pursed her lip. It wasn't a time she wanted to remember. "When I was hunting for Horcruxes with Harry and Ron… Ron left us, because he was angry. I had a choice then: To either follow Ron, or stay loyal to Harry and continue searching with him."

"And you chose Potter." Draco said. He'd never heard of this, since Harry had never told the entire truth about the Horcrux hunt.

"I did. And I never regretted that decision, not once. Sure, I missed Ron… it was like a piece of my heart was gone… but I knew Harry needed me."

"I assume that Weasley must have come back. Or else you wouldn't be with him now."

Hermione smiled. "He did. And he's done everything he can since then to make up for walking out on us."

"He shouldn't have left you in the first place!" Draco said, "If it were me, I never would have abandoned my friends. For any reason." _Especially if it had been you, Granger. Weasleby and Potter were very lucky to have you._

Hermione didn't doubt that. Draco had proved that he was extremely loyal, even if his chosen friends weren't. She supposed he'd learned that from his mother.

"Back then, I chose Harry, because that was right. And this time, I'm choosing you." She said.

Draco paused, then said, "I'm going to be honest with you, Hermione… I don't have much time left here. They're going to burn down the mansion within the week. At the very least, the wards will fall and they can somehow give the mansion to someone else. I heard some ministry dogs talking about it."

She sucked in a breath. "And what will happen to you? What can we do?"

"I don't know." He said grimly. "But it won't be good. I'm only telling you this because I want to ask one last favor of you."

"Anything."

"I need you to sign you name on the deed."

"But I'm not blood related to the Blacks, or the Malfoys!" She pointed out.

"I didn't tell you this, but the moment I allowed you permission within the blood wards, you came under Malfoy protection."

"Malfoy protection…"

"Meaning that the house recognizes you as Malfoy blood, and you are legally able to sign for it to be in your name."

"Couldn't Andromeda sign for it?" She suggested.

"No. She was disowned by the Black family long ago. She can no longer be recognized as a Malfoy heir."

"But Draco, what about you?"

"Even if I'm not around, I refuse to let the Ministry have Malfoy land. I'd rather it be given to a mudblood—no offense meant—than hand it over to the bastards who ruined my family. Unfortunately, it can only be passed on to another person once I'm gone… But at least I'll know it's safe in your hands, and maybe it'll even have a great mansion here again some day. You're the only one with the influence who's on my side, Hermione. The Ministry would never go against a member of the Golden Trio."

"If that's what you really want, Malfoy, then I'll do it. I just… I wish that we could start everything over from the beginning! It's all so unfair. I wish... I wish that I could go back and fix this."

"Well, there isn't a spell for that, is there?" Draco said with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. Hermione just sniffed, feeling tears pricking her eyelids.

"I'll tell you now, Hermione. I'll tell you why I left an imprint of myself. I did it because I actually regretted not talking to someone. A lot of people. I didn't leave a note, I had no chance to explain anything… any of it. It was stupid of me, but I actually felt the need to justify what a bastard I was. It was selfish of me… and then _you _came along, like the answer to my prayers. That's why I jumped at the chance to have my story written. A chance to apologize to everyone I've hurt. Even Potter. Though our… tense relationship wasn't _entirely _my fault." Draco smirked at that. "You'll tell him, won't you?"

Hermione was about to open her mouth when a voice interrupted her.

"You can tell him, yourself." In the doorway stood the raven-haired man himself.

"Potter." If Draco was surprised at his appearance in the Manor, he didn't let it show.

"Malfoy." He shot back.

A strained silence. Then a giggle escaped Hermione's lips. It was just so ludicrous. Those words had been uttered so many times during their years at Hogwarts, and here the boys had been reunited as men under very different circumstances. Both glared at her.

"Now, what was that about an apology, Malfoy?" Harry smirked. "I followed Ron here, but I never expected such a strange surprise."

"I'm sorry, Potter. For all the shit I've put you through over the years." He said stiffly. What a pain it was to swallow your pride.

"Are you doing this to ease your conscience?" Harry asked suspiciously. He wouldn't allow Malfoy to forget everything he'd done. Because Harry certainly wasn't the only person the Slytherin had hurt.

"I won't ever forget." Draco said, as if he'd read his rival's mind. "About Hogwarts, about the war, my mistakes… I won't forget any of it. I'll always carry the guilt."

"Then all is forgiven." Harry said solemnly. "I owe you and your mother my life."

Draco flinched at the mention of Narcissa. He nodded, thinking the conversation over.

Hermione had never been prouder of Harry. Her face glowed as she asked, "I was wondering if you could help me with something, Harry. The final piece of the puzzle."

"Anything you need, Hermione, I'll do it." He said honestly. He would see Malfoy's story through to the end.

Hermione smiled. "I think it's time to stir up a little trouble in the Ministry."

.

"There's a Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter here to see you, sir." The secretary said. Kurt Longnight started and sputtered over his coffee. He leapt up from his seat, suddenly very red in the face.

"Well, what are you doing, woman! Make Door Number Four is hidden!"

"I—I will, sir." She said frightfully. "But what about Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley-?"

"Send them in, of course. I'll keep them occupied while you secure the room. They cannot be allowed in under _any circumstances, _Prim. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, of course, sir!" She said. She bustled off to invite the guests in, then practically ran down the hall of experiments. The fourth one could have a glamour cast on it so that people would pass by without a second glance.

Prim decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to check on the cargo. She placed her palm on the door so that it would read her magical signature. It swung open, and she peeked around the doorframe. She was then assured when she caught a glimpse of a silvery blonde-head.

She relocked the door with satisfaction. She passed Mr. Longnight and his guests on the way back to the front desk.

They were walking down the hall, with hundreds of doors on each side. They were in no particular order, but all had number painted on.

"I'd like to thank you for taking the time to help us out." Harry was saying.

"It is my please, Mr. Potter. It's the least I can do for the savior of the Wizarding Worlf." He answered, praying that he wasn't sweating. This was exactly what he feared. Someone was now digging into his department's work, which was never good.

Kurt breathed a silent sigh of relief when it looked like Potter was going to pass right by the invisible door. Then he suddenly turned on him, fire blazing in those emerald eyes.

"Don't think that you can fool me, Sir. I know that what I'm looking for is here. I can _feel _the glamour."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Mr. Potter."

Ron whipped out his wand and uttered an anti-glamour spell. Kurt moved to stop him, but it was too late. The plain door with the number four written in gold letters was now completely visible.

"I had a hunch, you see." Harry said.

"But—how-?"

"You're not the only one with friends in Ministry, Sir. And you're not at inconspicuous as you may believe. Now, I'm pretty sure that you're hiding something behind that door. I want in."

"But—"

"I'm Harry bloody Potter. I saved your sorry arse from Voldemort, and I _want behind that door."_

Kurt gulped. He only hoped that Harry Potter would have mercy when he saw what was there.

He lifted the glamour and opened the door.

A gasp arose from he and the red head. They went to take a closer look at the body in the bed. It was unmistakably Draco Malfoy, looking to be peacefully asleep in an immaculate black suit. He was the only person in the room, which was bare and empty.

"What is this?" Harry demanded.

"His body, sir," Kurt said miserably, "He's been placed in a magically induced coma. After he tried to kill himself, the resuscitated his body, and froze it here. He doesn't need to be fed or given water because of the spell."

"And you've been lying to the whole damn world?" Ron said angrily.

Kurt didn't answer.

"Tell me, can the soul come back to the body as it is now?" Harry asked.

"Well, it would be highly unusual, but it is certainly possible. You'd need a highly skilled and precise wizard to perform it—"

"Or a witch." Ron said.

"Or a witch." Harry agreed.

"This little project of yours is done, Longnight. You're coming with us, and your whole building is shut down… permanently, if I have anything to say about it."

"But—"

"Not another word, or I'll hex you so badly you _wish _you were in a coma!" Harry said, and Kurt reminded himself that this was the boy who had defeated Voldemort. He went along quietly, held by each arm by the boys.

"Merlin, Hermione is going to go mad." Ron whispered.

.

"I knew that something was up because of what Ginny told me that she'd seen Draco's body being brought to St. Mungo's. But she thought that he was dead! They swore her to secrecy, but she had no idea why. I thought that maybe they were conducting some tests on him or something, like Muggle autopsies… I never would have thought that he was still _alive!" _Harry said. He, Hermione, Ron, and Draco were all sitting in the Manor parlor, tense and in shock.

"If my body is still alive… then why am I still here in the Manor." Draco asked.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I think that because your body was_ technically_ dead for a while, your hearts had stopped, so you imprinted your soul here. Then the Ministry brought the body back to life and put it in stasis… but your soul was already parted from it."

"Meaning… there's a chance that I can come back to life? If my soul is reattached to my body?" Draco asked tentatively. What if he was wrong, and his hopes were being raised for nothing? It would be worse to know that his body was out there, surviving and breathing, yet out of his reach.

"I did some research… and I think I can do it." Hermione said.

"You _think?"_

"I _know _I can." Hermione said confidently. "Your body is in our custody now, and I confirmed the spell with Professor McGonagall. It will work."

"It's not like I have anything to lose, do I?" Draco said.

.

"Stop _hovering, _Granger!" Draco growled. She was following him nervously, like he would evaporate at any moment.

"I'm just worried, okay? This is a major spell. If anything goes wrong—"

"Just yesterday, you were positive that you could do it. That is would work. Where'd all your Gryffindor courage go?"

"Aren't you scared _at all, _Draco?"

"I'm already dead. What have I got to be afraid of?"

That was a lie. He was afraid of _disappointment. _

His body was lying on the floor of the Manor parlour, pale and still. It was strange to see his body but not be inside it, a true out of body experience.

Hermione bit her lip. Ron and Harry were waiting outside, and they would come in when she was finished… no matter what the results were.

"Just get on with it, Hermione. Waiting another minute won't make it any easier." He said quietly.

She sniffed, and her eyes welled up. "You are a brave man, Draco Malfoy. I am very lucky to have gotten to know you in the end."

"I've never been brave. You're the good one, Hermione. You've always been one of the good ones."

"There are much more important things… like friendship, and bravery." Hermione said. She took two steps forward before she could change her mind, and placed a butterfly-light kiss on Draco's lips. She passed right through him with a whooshing sound.

Draco's eyebrows were raised impossibly high, and Hermione looked away in embarrassment.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"Yes." She agreed. She told him to lie on the floor next to his body. It was eerie to see two Malfoy's, one as silver as a patronus, and the other still warm but soulless.

Hermione took a deep breath and stood over them. She took out her wand and crouched. She reached for Real-Draco's ghostly pale hand, then pointed her want at Ghost-Draco's forehead.

"I will serve as a medium between your soul and your body. It should be even easier since I already know you well enough. It'll be easier for your soul to pass through mine."

"Sounds like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo to me."

"Well, you'll just have to trust me."

Draco was silent for a moment, than said, "I do trust you. If I didn't, I wouldn't have let you anywhere near my heart _or_ my soul." If he hadn't opened up to her, there was no chance he could have returned to his body before the Manor was burned down.

Hermione began to chant then, a slow streaming of words that sounded like Latin. He let her voice lull him, pushing the worry back.

It took over two minutes for anything to happen. Hermione was still chanting, her brows furrowed in concentration. He wondered if she noticed the warmth that he was feeling. It was beginning in his chest and going outwards, like he'd been plunged into a steaming bath. He felt his mind floating too, and he let himself go. Darkness was creeping along the edged of his vision, than everything when black.

In the end, Hermione was his guiding light. As his medium, his soul was called to hers. It was all brilliant light and calmer warmth. He broke through it, than suddenly felt incredibly heavy. He was no longer blinded, but he didn't have the strength to open the lids of his eyes. And he was _cold._

He hadn't been cold since the day he died.

"Draco… Draco, it _worked!"_

His fingers twitched. Feeling was returning to his limbs. Yes, they were _his _limbs. This was his body. His breathing body. He opened his eyes and saw the same world that he'd left. The only difference was that he was no longer on the floor of the parlour, but in a hospital bag. They must have taken him to St. Mungo's.

"You see, I am a bit of a Slytherin, after all." Hermione smiled. "I've personally gained a lot of fame and glory from the first soul summoning and successfully bringing the dead back to life."

"And you don't care at all, do you?" Draco smirked, raising his head for the first time.

"No, not even a little." She said, impulsively linking her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace unabashedly. It just felt good to be able to touch him, finally, after all those months. The connection was still there between them, but now it was real and corporeal.

Draco couldn't believe that he was now hugging the golden girl… and was enjoying it. How times had changed.

"Thank you so much, Hermione." He said in her ear.

"You're welcome." She pulled away. "I'm just glad you're alive, Draco. We can start all over now. All of us."

Draco knew that she meant Potter and Weasley, too.

"Do you want to know something silly?" He said.

"What?" Hermione said.

"Right before I stopped breathing, _you _were the last face I pictured."

Hermione's heart beat harder in her chest. "Yes. That's _absolutely_ silly."

"I never could forget what my Aunt did to you." He explained. "I was disgusted by my family that day."

"And that is why I'm sorry, Draco." Harry said, walking into the room. Teddy was trailing behind shyly, his hand in Harry's.

"Potter."

"_Harry." _He corrected, holding out his free hand. Draco took it.

"I never even gave you a chance, Draco. Maybe if I'd been able to get over my grudge a little earlier, we could have been friends. And I would have been able to know a great man… as far as Slytherins go." Harry continued with a small smile.

"All is forgiven." Draco repeated the man's words. "You rescued my body, and I can never repay you for that."

"How about we're even?" Harry said good-naturedly.

Draco struggled to stand up on wobbly legs, but was supported by Hermione. He steadied himself on the hospital bed railing. He was getting used to the feel of his body, and he felt _right _again.

"Ron says that he's sorry, Hermione. And he says that he understand if you "don't want to ever see him again and don't want to forgive him in a million years", but he's waiting at home if you do."

"Oh, _Ron!" _Hermione said affectionately. "I guess I'd better go, then. Will you be alright here, Draco?"

Draco was staring at Teddy Lupin, who was clutching Harry. "I'll be fine. You've done enough for me, Hermione. Besides, I think you should forgive Weaselby. He was your spy in the Ministry after all. Without him, we never would have figured out that they still had my body."

"It was surprising stroke of brilliance, that's for sure."

Hermione added, "And thanks to Ron, we now have the people who killed your parents in prison. They confessed to everything under Verituserum. They really weren't taking good care of their top-secret case files if _Ron _of all people was able to find them. The Ministry is in turmoil now."

"Several big positions are empty now, aren't they?" Harry said.

Hermione smiled widely as she was going out the door. "Maybe Ron's not the only spy you'll have in the Ministry, Harry."

Harry said, "The headline of the Daily Prophet is "Ministry cover-up and murder reformed family". You know what? I told Hermione yesterday that I really don't want a subscription to the Daily Prophet anymore."

"I always seem to find my way into the paper _somehow._" Draco said.

Teddy tugged harder on Harry's hand. "Daddy, who is that?"

"He's a friend, Teddybear. And your cousin, Draco Malfoy"

Teddy's eyes shined with excitement, and he crept up onto the bed so that he was nearly Draco's height.

Draco just looked at him, a wry smile on his lips. "Nice to finally meet you, little cousin."

"I'm Teddy. Not cousin."

"Nice to meet you, _Teddy."_

For once, Draco felt that all could be well.


	8. The Years Don't Matter

**So, due to so many reviews and wishes that I had made a more Dramione ending, I've decided to add an epilogue to the story. To be honest, I'd considered turning this into a Drarry fic towards the end there, and that's why I was hesitant to make any pairing in this. But you guys convinced me to go with my original intent, and finish it up with some Dramione loving. I hope you enjoy, this is a treat for my lovely readers! Please tell me if you liked it!**

It had been eleven months since Draco had returned from the dead.

Eleven months since his biography had been published, complete with the narration of his revival and the conspiracy that the Ministry had cooked up.

Eleven months since Draco had fallen in love with Hermione Granger.

It had crept up on him out of nowhere. It wasn't like Draco had had time to even consider the fact that Hermione was indeed a woman, and that he couldn't imagine life without her anymore. He'd been contemplating his eminent death, not thinking about his love life.

But as he'd lay in his hospital bed, all he could think of was seeing Hermione again, hearing her laugh as she joked with him, and telling him about her day. When Draco had been deemed healed enough to return to the mansion, he realized how lonely it felt without the bushy haired Gryffindor there. How his corporal, warm flesh longed to touch her, as he couldn't before.

_Merlin, it's only Granger! _He reminded himself. He tried to conjure up the disgust that he'd held for her during their years at Hogwarts, but the hate didn't come.

When he slept for the first time since he'd died, he dreamed of her voice.

After that, Draco Apparated as quickly as he could and got out of the country.

.

_A couple of months in the sun does a Malfoy good, that's for sure. _Hermione thought. She was holding the newest issue of Witch Weekly, a horribly trashy teen magazine, that was showing the 20 Best Beach Boy Bods… and Draco Malfoy was being featured on the beaches of Fiji. That wasn't exactly how Hermione wanted to see the blonde, but at least she knew he was happy and healthy… _Very _healthy, from the looks of it. Draco was toned and he'd developed an attractive tan. He even seemed to be sporting some stubble. Hermione told herself that she was admiring him from a strictly clinical view, not because she _liked _him, or anything. And that kiss months ago hadn't meant anything! She'd just wanted to comfort a friend who was possibly going to disappear forever. That was a reasonable excuse, wasn't it?

She wasn't going to take the fact that he'd fled only days after she'd revived him personally. She was only a little perturbed at the fact that he hadn't said goodbye. It was in Draco's nature, anyway.

Ron grumbled that he was ungrateful. Harry wished he would come back because Teddy wanted to see him again. Hermione wanted him to come back because she missed him.

With horror at that thought, she tried to crumple up the magazine, but Ginny stopped her hands.

She reached across the table and snatched the magazine back from her friend. "What do you think you're doing! I'm going to tape this up on my wall!"

Hermione blushed. "Ginny—that's just awful! Not to mention disgusting. I mean, aren't you the one who hates Malfoy so much?"

Ginny eyed her seriously. "I may hate Malfoy, but would _you _honestly turn down that body? Besides, I didn't say I was going to tape the ferret's picture up, I wanted to put Oliver's up! He's on the next page, but you were obviously too focused on Malfoy's, weren't you, Hermione?"

"I wasn't!"

"Well, while you're in denial, I _know _what I want… and that's Oliver Wood's abs on a platter. After sandwiches, of course." She giggled, finally picking up her menu, which had been left forgotten on the café table.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed in a scandalized tone.

"Don't worry, Hermione. I'll frame Malfoy's shirtless beach photo and blow it up for you." She winked.

"Don't you dare!"

.

Draco was lounging on the beach, lying on a lounge chair in the shade. He did have delicate skin, after all. Through his sunglasses (he actually liked these muggle inventions) he noticed a gaggle of girls watching him from a drinks shop a few feet away. Though they couldn't see his eyes, which were rolling, they giggled when he turned his head in their direction.

At first, being stared at by Muggle girls had made Draco feel extremely uncomfortable. Almost slimy, even. Then he'd realized that they weren't interested in him because of his family history, but because they superficially found him attractive. That made his ego feel a little better, but he still wanted nothing to do with them. Sure, all the girls who ogled him were cute, flirtatious, and he was pretty much in every guy's dream situation. But they weren't Hermione.

He knew it was very, very wrong to compare perfectly lovely girls to Hermione, because he was trying to _avoid _thinking about her. He liked to call it Operation "Granger-Detox". That was why he'd fled to flippin' Fiji, to distract himself from thinking about deep chocolate brown eyes and bushy hair.

After that he'd encouraged women's advances a little more. He'd even invited one back to his hotel room. But he'd found the passionless sex to be completely disappointing and not worth his time. After weeks of giggles and flirting and fruity alcoholic drinks that he could barely name, he just found them annoying.

One of the girls he was rolling his eyes at, Angela Gilbert, didn't know that. So she gathered courage (mostly at the teasing from her friends) and walked towards where the blonde boy was sitting.

"Excuse me, I was just wondering where you're from. You don't look like an island boy." She asked.

_Not the best attempt at subtlety. _Draco internally snorted as the girl twirled a lock of her curly, dirty-blonde hair nervously. It was a habit that Draco couldn't stand, and one that many girls seemed to share.

_Hermione didn't ever mess with her hair. _Then he forced that mutinous voice into the back of his head. His Fiji rehab wasn't working as well as he'd hoped.

"Good observation. I'm from England, actually." He hoped his sarcasm wasn't _too _obvious.

"Oh. Did you come alone?" She asked, obviously hopeful.

"Yes, I did. And I'd planned on staying that way."

The girl looked startled at his firm dismissal. Maybe she wasn't used to being brushed off so quickly.

"Well, I… um, would you mind taking off your glasses? I don't like talking to people if I can't tell when they're looking at me." Angela said. She really just wanted to see his eyes.

Draco stared at her for a fraction of a second, than slowly took off his black shades.

He chuckled. "I admire a girl who knows what she wants."

Angela thought that he was as beautiful as she'd imagined. He had striking grey eyes, even if they were a bit cold, and a nicely angled bone structure.

Draco saw the friends give the girl the thumbs-up.

Merlin, women were impossible.

"I'm Angela. People call me Angie." She said more confidently. She sat on the edge of his lounge chair.

"It's a pleasure, Angie. I'm Draco."

Angela was sure that she had him, now. "Draco? That's an unusual name. How did you parents come up with that?"

"I was named after a constellation. It's a tradition of my family's."

Angela practically swooned. A brittish accent, model looks, and a seemingly-cultured family?

"My family is pretty boring. We don't have good taste in names like that. My brother's name is James and my older sister's name is Hailey." She grimaced.

"Well, as they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I'd expect that if the people who spawned you are boring, you probably are too. And you're wasting my time, so get off my chair." He said, the smirky-smile never leaving his face. Angela processed what he said, and then finally looked insulted.

She stood up in a huff. "I hope you have fun on your pathetic little vacation, you loser. Now I see why you're here alone."

_You don't know the half of it, sweetie. _He thought, and put his sunglasses back on. He decided that his mood was ruined, and he'd gotten enough sand in his shorts for the day. Draco packed up the chair and carried it on his back away from the beach. He walked down the road and headed towards the house he was renting. It was expensive, but what was the point of being a Malfoy if you didn't blow a little money once in a while?

Surprisingly, he'd had fun over the past few months. He'd tried his hand at surfing, and found it to be lacking in comparison to Quidditch. But he did enjoy the challenge. And if anyone had told him that Draco Malfoy would be playing volleyball on the beach with a bunch of muggles, he would have laughed at them. The joke was on him, he guessed. He'd even tried working for a while, but discovered why Malfoy's never had occupations that involved customer service. But one thing he couldn't pretend that he liked was all the bloody _walking._

It had taken him weeks to get used to not carrying his wand. But after enough weird, curious looks from people, he knew that a piece of wood sticking out from his swim trunks wasn't normal (at least not _his _kind of wooden stick). He still felt like a Death Eater Hater was going to pop out of nowhere and Avada Kevadra him to oblivion. He'd died once, and he'd rather not do it again.

But other than walking… the Muggle world wasn't so bad. He'd survived this long without hexing anyone innocent, so Draco supposed he'd be okay for at least another year.

He only had one person waiting for him back in the Wizarding World, and she was the last person he wanted to see…

.

"It's been like a year, Hermione. Don't you think it's time for you to try to contact him?" Harry said. They were doing inventory on the new bookshop that Hermione was opening in Diagon Alley. Hermione hadn't given up on her ambitions of political influence, but she was satisfied with a prominent chair on the reformed Wizengambot… for now.

"If he wants to come home, then he will," Hermione said, "I'm not his mother, Harry. I'm not going to tell him what to do. He just got a new lease on life, I think he deserves some time to enjoy it."

"There's enjoying life, and then there's _running away." _Harry said. He levitated a box of books up to Hermione, who was waiting to arrange them while standing on a stool.

"Well, I'm not going to chase him. Why does everybody want to tell me what to do when it comes to Malfoy and I? I swear, between you and Ginny—"

The two had been hinting that she actually _missed _the wizard. And even if she did, that didn't mean that she appreciated Ginny or Harry pointing it out all the time.

"We just don't want to see something good go wrong, that's all. And I'll admit, I have a completely selfish reason for wanting the ferret back. Teddy hasn't stopped asking when he can see his cousin again since he met Malfoy in the hospital. And you know what's coming up…"

"Teddy's birthday." Hermione confirmed.

"Right. I think it would mean the world to Teddy if he could see a member of his family other than Andromeda. He might look up to Malfoy, you know."

"And you're okay with that?" Hermione gaped. Years ago, Harry would have rather splinched himself than consider Draco a potential role-model for his precious godson.

"Draco and I may not see eye-to-eye, but he's a good guy. And I promise I would only hex him a couple of times if he came to the party."

Hermione's hands were on her hips, and she was directing the rest of the books with wandless magic, "And that's really incentive to get Draco to come back."

Harry grinned. "It's the best I can offer. I'm just asking you to send him a simple letter, Hermione. He's more likely to listen if it's from you, I think. And I know you know how to find him, thanks to that Witch Weekly that Ginny showed me."

Hermione reddened. "Fine. I'll do it. But don't tell Teddy… I don't want him to be disappointed."

.

Draco wanted to come home.

Even though he didn't really have a home to return to, he knew that he wasn't made to live in the Muggle World for much longer. The days were monotonous, and unless he planned on snapping his wand, he knew that his time was up. He'd ran out of things to try alone.

Hermione's letter offered him the perfect way out. As he read it, he could practically here her warm voice in his head,

_Dear Draco,_

_I know we haven't spoken for a while, but I wanted you to know that I'm thinking of you. The Wizarding World isn't the same as you left it—a lot can change in a few short months. But I'm hoping that you'll come back and see for yourself. It's Teddy's birthday, and he _really _wants you to come. It would be a small gift, but your presence would mean the world to him. If it's convenient, come to Andromeda's home (I'll leave a portkey in the Malfoy Manor for you at 11 in five days days) and celebrate with us. I hope that your holiday has been enjoyable, but don't be a stranger!_

_ -Hermione_

How could he ever be a stranger to Hermione, when she was the only person to whom Draco had confessed his deepest fears and dreams? She'd been connected to his soul!

He missed her. It felt like his heart was being torn in half.

Draco then decided that it was time to go home.

.

Hermione was finishing up some last minute decorating for Teddy's birthday. The streamers were all up, the decorations were all snitch-themed. The sky had been enchanted to look like a Quidditch field, with the hoops and everything.

Ron whistled at her work, carrying in the enormous chocolate cake (shaped like a broomstick, of course). "This is pretty impressive, 'Mione. I especially like the wall-paper… do you think Andromeda will keep it?"

"I doubt it… You know, I'm a little worried that he won't like my gift—I mean, I really don't know what young boys are interested in at this age." Hermione said nervously. She looked at Ron pleadingly.

"As long as you didn't get him a book or something like that, I'm sure he'll love it." Ron assured her. At Hermione's frown, he groaned.

"You _didn't! _Why would you think that any normal boy in their right mind would want a _book _for their birthday?"

"Well, I like to think that there are some children who want to stretch their minds and like using their imaginations! I loved books when I was his age!" Hermione said defensively.

Ron just threw up his hands. "You're hopeless! He can barely read yet!"

"Maybe it'll encourage him to learn." She said.

Harry walked in then, and Teddy ran in after him. He bounced around with excitement at the balloons floating around the room and went to try to pop one.

Harry chuckled. "If anyone can turn him into a bookworm, it'll be you." He told his friend.

"If he's got half this girl's brains, then Teddy will be more than alright." Andromeda Tonks joined in their laughter. She stood a full head taller than Harry, and smiled at the boy, whom she now considered like a son, fondly.

"The guests are all showing up on the lawn. Those portkeys were a brilliant idea, Hermione—now we don't have to worry about any of those "fashionably late" people." Andromeda continued.

"Well, I'd better collect the birthday boy so that he can greet them!" Harry said, and went to scoop Teddy, who was salivating at the sight of the cake, into a hug.

The room was soon full of people—Ginny, Luna, Neville, George, Ron, Victoire, Bill, Fleur, Gabrielle, Blaise, Angelina, Dorian (Blaise's son), Hugo (Ron's nephew), Freddie (Angelina and George's son), and Andrea (the daughter of Alicia Spinnit and Lee Jordan).

The children scurried off to admire Teddy's pile of presents on the end of the table. Hermione had just started chatting with George about a collaboration project with Wizard's Wizard Wheezes when the entire room suddenly fell silent. The atmosphere was one of shock, and all the guests were distracted and open-mouthed at the sight of something at the door. Hermione turned to where the others were looking and her eyes met the grey ones of Draco Malfoy.

.

Draco was being stared at, but he only saw Hermione.

She'd changed since he'd last seen her, but not in a way that he could pinpoint. She still had untamable bushy hair and large brown eyes. She was gaping at him, a plastic cup with broomsticks on it in one hand. He was surprised at the fact that she wasn't in her wizarding robes, and had instead donned a white lace dress and blue flats. It was strange because she looked so much like a muggle, yet it didn't put Draco off at all. Maybe he'd become immune to muggleness during his vacation.

Hermione took a step towards him… and than plowed into him at full-speed. Draco's had the breath knocked out of him as they collided, and Hermione hugged him with all of her strength.

"Draco… you're back!"

He couldn't stop the smile that came to his lips. He put his arms around her waist and tried to his smile in his hair. It wouldn't do for Potter and his friends to see him _emotional, _for Merlin's sake.

"Obviously, Granger." He said.

She pulled back, hurt plain in her expression. "I thought we were past the whole "Granger-Malfoy" business?"

"Of course we are… Hermione. I just called you that for old-times sake." He said, and wanted to cringe at the warmth in it. He hadn't sounded so damn happy since he'd made Weaselby cough up slugs in their second year.

"I'm just glad you're here." She said quietly. She didn't want Ginny to hear, or she would probably die of mortification. Although from how close they were standing, she supposed Ginny could probably guess what they were saying easily enough.

"I couldn't miss my only cousin's birthday. How heartless do you think I am?" He smirked. "Although, I'll admit… I may have come back to see you, too."

Teddy interrupted their reunion by thoroughly pestering Draco. The blonde was so patient that is was endearing. This seemed to ease the tension in the room, because the guests all returned to their separate conversations. This left Hermione to continue with theirs after Teddy went to play with Andrea.

She tried to ignore the wink that Ginny sent in her direction.

"He's grown up a lot since I last saw him." Draco observed.

Hermione nodded. "He's growing like a weed. Apparently Professor Lupin was the same way when he was a child. And he's already transforming his nose! We showed him a picture of Professor Snape… after he got over his terror, he matched his hooked nose perfectly!"

Draco burst out laughing at that. "I would love to see that some day!"

She wanted to ask why he'd left so suddenly. She wanted an explanation, and maybe even an apology, but she knew that Draco hadn't done anything wrong. She'd just thought that they'd gotten closer while she was writing the book, and that they'd even become good friends in the process… but maybe she'd overestimated their friendship.

"So… how have you been, Hermione? Are you and Weasley getting married yet?" He asked. He didn't really want to know the answer to that, though.

She winced. "Ron and I broke up months ago… which you would have known if you'd stuck around." Hermione said. She could have bitten her tongue for sounding so pathetic, like some scorned and dumped girlfriend.

"Okay, I deserved that one." He admitted. "But I _couldn't _stay, Hermione. I couldn't stay and have to watch Weasley step all over you. Not when I—"

He stopped and swallowed.

"Not when you _what, _Draco?" She asked gently. He averted his gaze, but Hermione wouldn't back away. She waited in silence for him to answer.

"I know everything about you, Draco. Nothing that you tell me could make me think less of you."

Fear welled up inside him, and the words bubbled out.

"I couldn't stay when _I loved you!"_ Draco blurted out. At Hermione's astonishment, he stood up abruptly from the couch and stalked away, his face burning. Ginny was looking at him in confusions and curiosity, but he didn't stop until he was outside and away from those big brown eyes. He let out a few shaky breaths and leaned against the house wall.

How could he have been so stupid! Things would never be the same between them now. He'd probably lost Hermione for good… he'd just screwed up and lost his best friend. He should never have come back at all…

"Umm… this is rather awkward, isn't it?" Hermione said from the doorway.

Draco didn't answer.

"You know, I meant what I said. I would never think any less of you. I'm flattered…"

"But?" Draco asked bitterly. He was bracing himself for the rejection that he was sure was coming. Why did he have to be in love with the Gryffindor Golden Girl? He was a slimy Slytherin, who was hated by everyone for being a Death Eater. He was evil, and yet he loved the purest girl in the whole world. Where was the fairness in that?

Hermione paused. "But, nothing. I like you too, Draco."

_Maybe I should just go back to Fiji… nah, too many sunburns. Maybe I'll try Italy. Then Venice, I can ride the gondolas every day…_

"Did you hear me, Draco?"

He finally looked at her. "You don't have to be nice about it, Hermione. I know that this—us—would never work out. I don't know why I told you in the first place. So don't try sparing my feelings, or any of that girly bullocks."

"I'm not 'sparing your feelings'. I'm trying to tell you that I feel the same… but from what you just said, you don't want us to be together."

Draco whirled on her. "What?"

"Every moment after you left, I missed you terribly. But I realized that it was more than just that… I was probably in love with you. I mean, it's not so strange when you get so close to a person…" Hermione flushed in embarrassment.

"Then why didn't you ask me to come back?" He asked incredulously.

"What right did I have to make you come back, when you obviously didn't want to? I thought that I was just upset over my fights with Ron, and that the feelings would fade after I stopped seeing you so often. I was just coming to terms with my feelings, and by the time I knew that it was real, it was already too late… besides, I had no idea if you even felt the same!"

"Well, I do." Draco said. "So, now what?"

"What do you mean, 'now what'? I suppose things just go back to the way they were. Because you don't want to date me, you've made that clear." Hermione spat.

"Why are you mad at _me?" _Draco said, catching her tone.

"Because this mess is all your fault! If you hadn't confessed, than I never would have told you how I felt, and things wouldn't be all weird between us! Why would you even tell me if you didn't want our relationship to progress any further! It just—it's just idiotic!"

As she spoke, Hermione's cheeks reddened. Draco found her adorable when she was angry… as long as she wasn't hexing him or breaking his nose. She gave a tiny huff when she was finished, and crossed her arms.

He took one of her hands in his on instinct. Really, he just wanted to touch her. He'd longed to for months, but hadn't allowed himself to even consider actually doing so. She looked at it like she was being scalded.

"I love you, Hermione. And my escape to Fiji made me realize just how much I need you. I've never met anyone like you, and I doubt that I ever will. I just—I'd never expected you to reciprocate, not in a million years."

"Well, we both seem to enjoy surprising each other. I never thought that I would fall in love with you either, Draco. But it just happened. And I personally want to see where it goes."

"If this were a normal situation, I would agree, but…" Draco seemed disappointed, but resigned. He loved Hermione, but that didn't mean that they would have a fairytale ending…

"Oh, just _kiss her already, _Malfoy! I didn't think you'd be such a pansy, of all people!" Ginny's voice said impatiently, tapping her heeled foot on the floor. Hermione peeked back into the room, and saw over a dozen pairs of eyes staring back at her in amusement. Ginny shook her head in disgust at her friend.

The entire party had seen she and Draco fight.

And consequently confessed their love for each other.

Seeing their audience, Draco moved away from the door, taking Hermione with him until they were out of Ginny's potential vision.

Then he kissed her, just as he'd imagined doing. There was no nervousness or fumbling like he would have expected, considering he was kissing Hermione (it was unkind of him, but he thought she'd be incredibly inexperienced compared to other girls that he'd kissed in the past). In fact, Draco swore that he forgot to breathe as their lips moved together.

It was probably the best kiss that he'd ever had, because it actually _meant _something to him. Sure, he could kiss thousands of Angies, but they would never be anything compared to Hermione Granger.

When they pulled apart, they didn't talk. They didn't have to.

.

Hermione thought that she could get used to the sensation of Draco's hands on her skin. He'd been constantly touching her since the party, and he'd used any and every excuse to do so, even if it was something as innocent as his hand on her back as they walked when she showed him around.

She'd wondered what touching Draco would feel like when she'd visited the Manor months ago. But he wasn't corporeal, so it had all be curiosity.

Now she knew that he sent shivers up her spine.

She ended her short tour in the doorway of her bedroom (totally unintentional, of course). Draco wagged his eyebrows at her and said, "I think we can stop here. I'd rather get well-acquainted with _this_ part of your apartment."

She tried not to smile. "You certainly know how to flatter a lady."

"You haven't seen me when I'm really trying, Hermione. Trust me, it's an unforgettable experience." He murmured.

Now, Hermione Granger was not an easy girl by any means. But when an extremely handsome, tan, and well-muscled Draco Malfoy is making advances on you and he really _means _it… it's difficult to turn down.

He lifted her into his arms and Hermione squealed.

"Wait, wait, what are you doing! I'm too heavy, put me down!"

"Stop trying to control everything and just let me be the man for once!" He said, and carried her to the bed despite her protests.

His kisses started innocently enough, but the gradually headed south from there, until she felt his breath on her neck. She wondered if it was possible to spontaneously combust from making-out.

Then the sensation was gone, like a light being turned off.

"I don't mean to spoil the mood… but what in Merlin's name is that?" Draco asked breathlessly. Hermione pulled herself back to reality and followed his gaze.

Hermione looked up and screamed. On her ceiling, there was a poster of Draco Malfoy, swim-trunk clad on the beaches of Fiji.

"I-I-I—I'm going to _kill her!" _Hermione screeched, thinking of Ginny, and all the foul things she was going to do to get back at the redhead.

"You won't need that poster anymore, because now you have the _real thing." _He said, covering her mouth with his.

In a matter of seconds, Hermione forgot what it was she was angry about, because she was being ravished by a certain shirtless blonde boy. And Draco was right… the poster really couldn't compare to the real thing.


End file.
